


Rewriting TommyInnit

by WolvesOnCaffeine



Category: Dream SMP (Roleplay Canon), Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Almost attempted suicide, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Big brother Dream, Bloodvines Arc, Dream Smp, Dream is messed up but not completely evil, Exile, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced miscarriage, Miscarriage, Misunderstandings, Not Canon Compliant, Not RPF, POV Third Person, Panic Attacks, Past Clay | Dream/sapnap, Self-Indulgent, Some Fluff, Suicidal Thoughts, Tommy exile arc, Toxic Relationship, switching POV, which is an improvement i suppose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 69,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28106229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolvesOnCaffeine/pseuds/WolvesOnCaffeine
Summary: The Dream SMP and all connected lands were in understandable chaos, considering the absolute insanity that unfolded at all hours of the day. However, when a teenager in exile accidentally gets injured and forcibly acquires a new start, things get far more complicated than before.Farmore complicated.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Alexis| Quackity & Toby Smith | Tubbo, BadBoyHalo & Clay | Dream, BadBoyHalo/Skeppy, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Skeppy, Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu & Ranboo, Philza Minecraft & Technoblade, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 639
Kudos: 1248





	1. How Wonderful It Would Be To Fall

**Author's Note:**

> The relationships included in this fic are specifically in reference to the narrative and the canon of the Dream SMP, not the real-life YouTubers that play the characters in the roleplay. This is all about fictional personas, not real people.
> 
> Do not ship real people unless they consent. If they do consent to being shipped, then listen to the boundaries of that consent and do not cross the creators' personal boundaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic talks about suicide, and shows someone who considers attempting it very heavily. If you begin thinking often about suicide, and/or are tempted to try it, please tell someone you trust or contact your suicide hotline for help. Please get help. I believe in you; you can live another day, and the world is better with you in it.
> 
> Please do not follow the example shown in this fic, which is for entertainment and drama only.

TommyInnit stood at the edge of the nether path, the heat of the realm burning his skin like a hug that lasted too long, and stared. The lava below was so beautiful, a siren call of escape. He felt so tired, always tired, wasting away like a flower plucked from its roots. He would not survive without L'Manburg. _Could_ not survive without it. It was like a curse.

The magma swirled below him. If he looked close enough, he could almost see patterns in the molten stream.

It was like a curse.

The thing was, he could jump. He could jump right then. He could walk forward, as if the air would hold him, or leap like he was trying to land on a platform that wasn't there. He could do a flip, if he wanted. All he had to was... All he had to do was...

He just had to...

The thought stuck in his head, oddly, like an ice cube in his overheated brain. Uncomfortable, it did not belong in the heady rush of contemplation. He hated how he hesitated, how the line between _TommyInnit_ and _TommyInnit's Impulses_ was suddenly drawn in a way that almost made him feel _guilty_. Tommy should not be doing this. 

What would Dream think, if he jumped? After all, he _was_ his friend, and he did not want him to die. Dream would not be happy if he jumped. What would he do, if Tommy did?

As if that thought cleared his head, he began to relax, shoulders dropping as he breathed. No, not tonight. Not tonight. Dream would be by in the morning, and he could not welcome him there as a charred corpse. Maybe tomorrow. But not tonight.

Assured in his thoughts, Tommy turned around. But not soon enough. 

Tommy had not been the only one preparing to bring him to his death that night. While he was distracted, mesmerized, a white spectre had floated up behind him, its eyes focused on one singular goal. He turned, too slowly, and saw what his eyes had failed to alert him to. Saw the fireball that sped towards him at a speed too fast to react to, and felt it hit.

It burned. It burned, oh god it burned. The fabric on his left shoulder burst into flames and his skin as well, the force of the hit and the pain enough to knock Tommy off the ledge. He fell, and fell, _screaming_. He had no armor, no nothing, only a burning arm and so, _so_ much pain. It was the end, and TommyInnit was all alone. 

_< TommyInnit Whispered to Dream>_

_TommyInnit: drema i dontwant to die_

And there it was. His last message sent, just in time for him to collide with the surface below. Not lava, the molten rock that would burn him like his shoulder was burning, but something hot and _hard_ , right in the back of his head. 

"-ommy? **_Tommy!_** "

The world went black.

* * *

Logstedshire was empty when Dream went to visit at just past midnight that night. That was worrying, even though his visit was not planned. But not because he thought Tommy would run off. He was too honorable for that, in his own little way. But because he had seen what Tommy stares at when unsupervised for too long, seen him forget to come up for air in lakes, had seen and _seen_ -

Tommy was absolutely not in the camp. Dream had checked. So that meant he had to be through the shifting purple portal at the edge of the private property. And if he was there alone, so late, after Tommy said he would be asleep early that night...

He did not have time to think before he broke into a run.

The temperature change was harsh and unwelcome, the nether too hot for his layered hoodie and armor, but Dream did not care. He did not have the time to care. All he had time to do was run. Run, as if his life depended on it, and Tommy's life too. He hoped he was wrong. Fuck, did he hope he was wrong. He never wanted Tommy to die. Had never, ever, wanted this, had thought he was safe, had thought he would not attempt it-

_< TommyInnit Whispered to Dream>_

_TommyInnit: drema i dontwant to die_

Dream got to the right spot just as he got the message. Perfect timing. He skid to a stop just in time to see a blond boy plummeting into hot rock, eyes closed, braced for the end. He could not believe it. He could not breathe. He could not think.

"Tommy?" he called, terrified as he saw the smoldering boy, unmoving upon the rocks. " _ **Tommy** **!**_ "

"Dream?" A new voice called out, surprisingly nearby, and he looked up. Tubbo stood with Fundy and Quackity, three sets of eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why are you here?" the president nearly spat.

But he did not respond. Why would he need to. Without a single word or even _nod_ , he jumped off the platform, perfect landing already in mind. Tubbo's hand had reached out to stop him, to stop him from _helping Tommy_ , but he evaded it with ease. The kid would have to try harder to best him. In perfect Dream fashion, he landed on the thin strip of netherrack that popped up from the lake of lava. The fire was still burning on the boy's shoulder, and his hoodie was stripped off and pushed on the flames to smother them before he could even think.

No. No, no, no, no. This was not supposed to happen. This was not what he wanted. He did not want this, not _this_.

"Please, Tommy," he whispered, a rare kind of desperation in his lungs. "Come on, I'll get you out. You don't have to worry about anything but just staying alive. Please, please just stay alive."

Above them, as he tended to the kid's wounds, Tubbo stared down at them, eyes boring holes into his back. But he did not care: Tubbo did not risk himself by jumping down to help the kid who was supposedly his _best friend_. Whatever judgment he had in store for Dream, who was actually _there_ , meant less than nothing to him.

"Come on, Tommy. You just have to stay alive," he whispered, again, and scooped up the boy in his arms, now wrapped in a singed green hoodie and sporting bandaged around a previously-burning arm.

Dream met Tubbo's eyes as he placed block, after block, tower forming underneath them as they rose.

If he wanted to watch the spectacle, then he would get a front-row seat.


	2. On The Subject of Caring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quackity and Schlatt's relationship is mentioned in a very minor, passing way a few times throughout this chapter, referencing their past relationship. I don't think it's enough to put a relationship tag in, but if it becomes more relevant then I will.

It was late for an evening trip to the Nether, Tubbo knew, as he led Quackity and Fundy through the portal. But there were conflicts to prepare for, plans to make, and sleep was a luxury he could not afford. Quackity hated having to wait when they could be working, he knew, and did not blame him, for all the things Quackity had to do for Schlatt. He felt bad for him, actually, even if his impulses sometimes became inconvenient. After all, Tubbo did not love Schlatt, so his death did not go as deep as it clearly did for his vice-president.

All of that to say that Quackity was anxious about sleeping without having done more preparations for the Butcher Army, and Tubbo followed along, because he knew how much pain he must have been in without distraction.

A fireball sped past in the distance the second the group walked through, all armed and ready to acquire more materials. But even as they all braced themselves, it was obvious that it was not meant for them. It hit something just outside of their view, and then a scream rang out. Panic seized Tubbo's chest, fear that someone would be hurt, burning to death in the lava below, and he began to run.

Quackity was right on his heels, as always, while Fundy was just behind. But they were too far away, even as they ran, and Tubbo knew they would not make it in time. 

Out of the portal on the opposite end of the path, a flash of neon green appeared. Dream came from Tommy's portal? He was far closer to where the scream came from, fear in his posture even when the mask did not show any of it, and clearly saw who it was before they could reach the spot. Tubbo watched as Dream skidded to a stop, peering over the edge as he prepared to move.

"Tommy? _**Tommy!**_ _"_ Dream sounded actually _scared_ , and Tubbo felt sick.

He and his team arrived by Dream's side just as the words rang out. Tommy? That was Tommy? His first thought was to look over the edge and check for himself. But other plans were made. Dream took a step back, then a step forward, and Tubbo knew exactly what he was doing before it even happened. They had ladders, he and Quackity did! Dream didn't need to jump, he would just burn! 

But the hand he reached out to help Dream, help him see reason, fell short. The man descended into the lake below, and Tubbo's brain was a blank.

**_What was happening?_ **

He heard the _thud_ of someone landing below and it was only then that Tubbo could move, Quackity behind him as they walked to the very edge of the path. Fundy was behind, a mumble of something about watching and ghasts as his excuse. Good, at least someone was looking out. Finally, finally, Tubbo managed to look down below. Even as he heard the sound of landing, he feared the worst. The worst had a pretty good habit of happening, as of late.

Dream was crouched on two blocks of netherrack, sharing the spot with Tommy. Tommy was- _Oh, Tommy._ Tommy was sprawled across the rock, blood on the left side of his face and neck, clothes tattered and worn. Dream was in a black tank top, green hoodie absent from his body and instead pressed against Tommy's right shoulder. Maybe the fireball hit him there, or something else happened. He did not know- _could_ not know. But he did know one thing:

With every sharp movement and all his tense posture, Dream was _pissed_. And something told him, as he saw the gentle way he was treating Tommy, as if he actually cared for some reason... That it probably was not Tommy that he was mad at this time.

Something in him winced at the knowledge that he had tried to _stop_ Dream from jumping down. He did not know he would be safe, and Tubbo had enough to deal with, without the death of the leader of the main foreign nation they had to deal with. It just would not go well, would not go well at all. But at the same time... Dream was _helping_ Tommy. He was helping, and all Tubbo did was watch and try to stop him.

It wasn't rational. He knew it wasn't. But, even so, it did not feel good.

Quackity muttered behind him as Tubbo watched Dream patch Tommy up, the best he could in the circumstances. He pulled out bandages, clean ones, and Tubbo had no idea why the man would have brought bandages with him, but he did and it was a good thing, too, because the few glimpses he got of Tommy's poor arm were... Were not good. But the bandages were not what surprised him the most. Not at all. It was how _gentle_ Dream was acting.

This was nothing like Schlatt, after his drunken outbursts, where he would shove an ice pack or bandages at them, then stumble away. Dream actually seemed to _care_ , not moving too fast and properly taking care of the wounds, making sure not to aggravate them. But he didn't care. Tubbo knew he didn't; he wouldn't have sent Tommy away if he really cared. In fact, he would not have waged war against them _multiple times_ if he actually cared about Tommy at all. But there Dream was, scooping up _Tubbo's best friend_ in his arms as if he was one of the most precious people in the world to him. As if he actually cared about whether or not Tommy was hurt.

Dream's gaze slid up, slowly, as he picked up Tommy. His mask, white and emotionless, met Tubbo's face, pale with fear and dread, and it was as if the man radiated anger. Fear pooled in Tubbo's heart, his head, his _bones_. He did not know what to do. He did not know what to do.

Dream placed a block underneath himself. Then another. Then another, holding Tommy in one arm as he towered upwards, never once looking away from Tubbo. Why? Why? What did he do that deserved to have him stared at? It made no sense. The man bridged over, still staring, and his uneasiness made him sick. 

He could not talk. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Not with Tommy there in Dream's arms, unmoving. But he did not have to.

"What the hell did you do to him, Dream?" Quackity snapped, all fire-anger-worry, in a tone similar to the one he used with Schlatt, but without the undertones of care. Quackity was all angry and no fucks given; he never cared about Dream, and certainly didn't right then. Tubbo was worried- Quackity might actually punch the god if things went wrong. He understood, but he also did not need another war.

But to his immense relief, Dream did not take the bait. He did not snap back, and cause a fight. For some reason, he finally kept his cool.

* * *

"I didn't do anything to him, Quackity," Dream said, voice intentionally level and cold. Tommy's face was warm against his bare shoulder, a tangible reminder of what he needed to protect. At least, for the time being. "He fell, and I went to rescue him. Are you really implying that I _wanted_ him to get hurt? I wasn't even in the Nether when he fell."

The expression on the kid's face was answer in and of itself. But Tubbo cut in before he could even try to escalate the issue.

"Okay! Okay. Tommy fell, and needs medical attention. We don't want to respawn him while he's unconscious, that's just morally wrong. So we need to take him back to L'Manburg, so he'll be safe."

Dream did not believe for a moment that L'Manburg was safe for Tommy, with its armorless populace and nothing to keep someone who thrived off chaos consistently occupied. Not to mention a president that would exile anyone, just from a single taste of peer pressure. But he did not have many excuses to refuse. 

"I would prefer if we went to where Tommy lives now," he said, allowing himself a single attempt to avoid bringing Tommy into L'Manburg, of all places. "He will be very confused when he wakes up."

"So it will be less confusing for him in whatever shithole you've set him up in?"

Dream was still very angry, his decision not to act on his anger did not temper its presence. If his arms were not full, he likely would have punched Quackity in the face. Uppity, arrogant, feisty, always too nosy and bossy for his own good. Schlatt should have chosen better. But no. No. He had to take care of Tommy first.

There was blood on his shoulder, from Tommy's head. The first step was to stop the head blood. He could not afford to argue. What was he doing?

Thankfully Tubbo decided to actually give a shit about his supposed friend, and nodded towards Dream, sending Quackity a warning look. Because of course Quackity always had people going easy on him. Why not?

"We can follow you to Logstedshire," Tubbo agreed, and behind him Fundy seemed to relax. Right, he was there as well. "As long as we can come with you, to make sure he's alright and see him when he wakes up."

He did not want that. He did not want that _at all_. Tubbo needed to _stay away_. But he nodded anyway. Tommy was still bleeding, he needed to make compromises if it kept him safer. So he turned around and walked down the path, quickly. Carefully. The ghast was gone, but who knew when it would return. Who knew when _any_ mob would rise up to cause problems?

"Message Bad and Skeppy," he called out behind him. "Skeppy has medical training, and Bad knows a lot from him. They'll help, but I have my hands full."

Hopefully, they would actually do what he said. But then again, he could just message them after Tommy was put back in bed, where he belonged. So in the end, it did not really matter. It would just further prove that Tubbo does not care for his friend as much as he believes he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this fic really popped off, huh- Hello, everyone!


	3. Avoiding International Incidents

_< Fundy whispered to Skeppy.>_

_Fundy: Hello, are you awake? We have several problems._

There were many ways Skeppy wanted to be woken up in the world, many of them pleasant and involved the option for no longer being awake very soon after the wake up. Being messaged in the middle of the night by someone he barely knew was absolutely not on that list at all. But he sat up in bed nonetheless, one hand rubbing at his eyes while the other gently maneuvered Bad back into lying down and staying asleep. There was no need to wake him up yet.

_Skeppy: problems as in waht kind?_

_Skeppy: i wask kinda busy sleeping u know_

_Fundy: Yes, I assumed so. It is almost 1 in the morning, after all. However, we have several problems._

Well, that illuminated things well. It definitely did not make him want to go right back to sleep, held in Bad's arms as the rest of the world fell away. Not at all.

_Fundy: For starters, Tommy is currently unconscious. He almost died, from what I assume was a ghast-caused fall. Dream arrived around the same time we did and attempted to help, from what I can tell. He asked me to contact you, as he is busy with Tommy and his injuries, including a possible significant head wound._

Oh, that was a lot.

_Fundy: Tubbo and Dream are both distressed and would be at each other's throats if it were not for Tommy's situation._

_Fundy: Quackity is doing his best to start an international incident, and may actually succeed if back-up does not arrive soon._

_Fundy: I am... Very tired._

_Fundy: We are currently at Logstedshire, which is where Tommy has been holed up. It's a campground, for some reason. Dream wants both you and Badboyhalo here, and says he will teleport you the moment that you say you are ready._

_Fundy: Please arrive soon, Quackity just called Dream an inhuman monstrosity, and Dream *is* armed._

Fear struck the heart of Skeppy, who suddenly had no issue rolling out of bed and rushing for his armor. Displeased sounds rose from the bed behind him, but he only felt a little guilty. Dream never took kindly to being called a monster, even when he was young, and the damage his outbursts could cause... He was morbidly glad that Tommy was unconscious. Dream would not harm an unconscious child in his outbursts, no matter how angry he was. So they were probably safe until they got there.

"Geppy? What's goin' on?"

"Come on, Bad," Skeppy urged, panic driving his hands even faster as he fastened his chestplate. "We need to help Tommy because he's really hurt, and Dream is _not_ in his right mind right now. Come on, we need to go."

"Nooow? But it's so earlyyyy," Bad whined. But he knew that once they were actually up and moving, it would be fine. Bad would wake up quickly. "Can we just go back to sleep?"

He just needed to get him out the door, Skeppy thought as he sighed, stepping over a scattering of ruby vines as he rushed to get his things together. "No, Bad, we can't go back to sleep. Put your armor on. Dream needs your help." 

_Those_ were the magic words. He'd feel guilty about using them, except he didn't. Behind him, Skeppy could hear Bad sit up and move the blankets out of the way. Good.

"Needs our help? Dream? Is he okay?"

"He will be if we get out the door _right now_ Bad," he urged. "He's willing to _teleport us_. You know he hates that, so we _need to go_!"

"Okay, okay, muffinhead," Bad grumbled, and Skeppy looked back and, thankfully, saw him also grabbing his armor. Good. Good, they needed to _go_. Bad could remember how to function like a person _after_ arriving.

_< Skeppy whispered to Dream.>_

_Skeppy:_ _alrite u can tp us_

Skeppy realized as he sent the message that he did not warn Bad at _all_ that they were about to move. But hey, the indignant yell he made was pretty fucking funny.

* * *

Logstedshire was not big enough for everyone that would be piling in, Tubbo noticed when they went through the portal. That should not have been the first thing he noticed, probably, but he was used to L'Manburg and compared to their fair city, this place Tommy was tossed in just felt... Small. His guilt rose up, as it often did, and he found himself desperate for a distraction. But all there was to focus on was Dream, who had slipped through the door of the one building in the entire place, Tommy still in his arms.

How Tubbo wanted to yank his friend away and hold him close, where he would be safe.

But he couldn't. All he could do was scramble down the path and towards the house, helpless to do anything but follow and watch. Completely helpless. Even Quackity had more agency than him, his shouts audible as Tubbo, as the _helpless child president_ , dashed into the house. Fundy was beside him, silent. He did that often, lately, and it concerned him even though there were more important things to worry about.

Like how Dream's fists were clenched, half-gentle as he leaned towards Tommy, which would never not be weird, and half ready for a fight. 

"That's quite enough of that, Big Q," he interjected, before he could even properly stop himself. Not that he would need to, of course. Because he was in charge, and Quackity was the vice president. But still. 

But still, there was a moment of rage, of too many weeks being ignored, that flashed through Quackity's eyes at Tubbo's words, raring a fight before they widened, and he relaxed. Tubbo could feel Dream staring at them, but ignored him. He knew how to handle his own Vice President. At least... This one.

He almost missed Quackity's grumbled, "Okay, sorry Tubbs," as he ducked behind Fundy.

Fundy, who looked put-together, as always, arms across his shoulders and observant gaze on the boy in the bed. Fuck, Tommy looked so _pale_ , paper white, like all the life had been sucked out of him. His hair was greasy, clothes torn, and even with a makeshift bandage on his head, it was clear he had hurt himself _badly_. No one needed to see the bare injury to tell that much.

"Dream, did you-" he started to ask.

But a startled yelp cut him off, and suddenly someone was standing on his foot. The moment of calm had ended, erupting into chaos again. Caused by Dream, who was not looking at them, and his face could not be seen through the mask.

Tubbo envisioned him smirking, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I keep teasing Quackity starting international incidents, he might actually do one accidentally... Oops.


	4. Finally, Some Adults Are In Charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am equally proud of this chapter and loathing of it, so please be gentle if you decide to comment criticism. It was... A lot, and I had a lot of emotions about this one, even though not much seems to happen in it. I promise that this chapter was important to me, the writer.
> 
> Also I hope all of y'all have been well, and actually got the notification for the update! I think I fixed the thing that's been making update notifs weird. Let me know if you actually got told it updated/could find it easily if you just found this fic now. ^-^;;

Bad had not talked to Dream since before Tommy's exile. He had meant to, of course he had, but Dream was always busy when he was available, and the vines were demanding more and more of his attention. The egg hated being ignored, and all his free time went to Skeppy, who was hurting more with every minute he spent with the egg over him. He always had to convince him that he was not leaving him, his priorities had just changed. But when he needed to reassure him every day... 

It left little time for Dream.

So when Skeppy woke him up that night in a panic, talking nonsense about Tommy, Dream, and Dream needing his help... The guilt hit him at the same time as the confusion. If he had talked to Dream, talked him down, would this have happened? Would-

His armor was half on when he suddenly found himself in an unfamiliar house, in a crowd of people, and Dream. The house was absolutely too small for that many people on a normal day, but that night... Dream never did well with crowds when stressed, especially as a kid, and he could spot the signs of a breakdown from a mile away. The fixation on one person, Tommy, who he could barely stand to look away from long enough to nod at Bad, the tensed shoulders, the shortened breath and clenched fists... 

Bad shared a pointed look at Skeppy, whose eyes widened as he nodded.

“Alright, everybody,” Skeppy said, as he clapped his hands- loud enough to get everyone’s attention, including Quackity, who looked ready to fight Dream right there. “Everyone out, except for me, Bad, and Dream.”

“I don’t- I-” Tubbo started to object, which was understandable. He adored Tommy, did not want him hurt, and had to stand there with the knowledge that his best friend was practically in pieces in the corner, guarded by someone that Tubbo obviously did not like very much. But he dropped his objected quickly, frustration mixing with his submission as he nodded. “Alright. But we want to come in as soon as we can. Come on, Big Q.”

The boy walked around his friends and gestured for Quackity to follow. Fundy took a moment to go along, lost in his silent observations. It was weird that Fundy wasn’t addressed at all, Bad thought. After all, Fundy was Tubbo’s friend as well, and a member of the cabinet. But he did not have the time right then to ponder that.

Skeppy went over to the bed and began looking over Tommy, muttering to himself in that way that he picked up in the last few years somehow, but was still adorable. Dream stood up from the bed, all stiff and awkward as if he did not belong in the room and leaned against the wall. He looked vulnerable in a way that he had not in a long time, without his bulky hoodie that he used as armor even when he was wearing nothing that would protect from physical wounds. Bad did not know what happened, but he knew that whatever did go down cut Dream deeper than anyone else would expect. 

“He... Fell,” Dream told the part of the wall that he seemed to be staring at, behind his mask. “I don’t think it was on purpose. But he was  _ there _ on purpose.”

Skeppy paused a second, out of Dream’s field of view, then silently continued his task of removing the hoodie from Tommy’s arm. It was stained with blood as he moved it. Bad forced himself to look away.

“Where was he, Dream?” he asked. It was best to keep him talking, in that sort of mood.

“He was in the Nether,” he replied, matter-of-fact. Almost cold, to those who did not know how to read him. “Tommy has traveled to the Nether a lot recently. Not to sneak back into L’Manburg. I thought I was helping, by being his friend. I thought he would stop wanting to fall. Bad, I didn’t  _ want _ this to happen!” His arms uncrossed and flew out in front of him, his emotions too strong to keep his hands stationary.

“Of course you didn’t, Dream,” Bad soothed, but he knew the restlessness and guilt that caused all that energy still bubbled below the surface. He was still distraught. “So you knew he felt... Not so good, but you thought he was getting better. But he went to the Nether and... Fell by accident?”

“Yeah, he did,” Dream nodded. “His right arm was on fire when I found him, Ghast fireball, and he fell backwards. If he had jumped, he would have landed face-first onto the rocks. He didn’t, and so he must have fallen when the Ghast hit him. Besides, he messaged me as he fell, asking for help. He didn’t-” He sighed, hands clenched and around him again, clearly frustrated with his own failures.

Bad did not agree with what he did to Tommy. But part of him, the part that found him as a child and raised him to be the man he was today, still wanted to hug him and protect him from the rest of the world. It killed him, to have to withhold comfort, because of what he had done.

“That does check out,” Skeppy confirmed from the bed. “Dream.. Has Tommy been eating? He’s kind of thin.”

Dream winced and tilted his head towards the ground. “No. I’ve been trying to get him to eat, but he keeps telling me he isn’t hungry. I can’t just force food down his throat. I’ve thought about it, but that... That’s probably morally wrong, right Bad?”

“That’s right!” Bad chirped, parental pride glowing gold in his chest. “Good on you for remembering that.”

Most parents would not be overjoyed that their kid understood basic moral concepts. Most parents did not raise literal embodiments of chaos that did not possess the innate understandings of empathy and morality. He did, and he glowed with pride. Baby steps.

“Yeah,” Skeppy agreed. “Probably shouldn’t force feed people without their consent. Did you just refuse to give him new clothes, or...”

“I did offer!” Dream was quick to defend, as Skeppy frowned at the tattered shirt he had to move and cut to get a better view of the injuries. “He’s sixteen, he’s being dramatic. Says he wants everyone to see how rundown he looks. So I’ve been letting him. I- Is that why he keeps thinking about it? Because he thinks I don’t care, since I let him wear the clothes he wants?”

“Okay, I think we’re getting a bit irrational here,” Bad cut in, sensing the spiral that would completely detach Dream from reality and resolving to kill it at the source. “You were trying to be a good muffin, and it didn’t go as you planned. That doesn’t mean you letting him have his clothes were your fault. But, Dream... As much as I want to discuss that side of things... I think we need to talk about what happens next.”

Dream did  _ not _ like that segway, suddenly tense, like a scared cat ready to bolt. Bad felt guilty, he did, but this was more important than his guilt.

“What happens next,” he said, flat, upset but sufficiently distracted from a self-hatred spiral that would help no one. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean... L’Manburg is going to want to take Tommy home, Dream,” Bad replied, as gentle as he could be. But no matter how gentle he was, he knew his words were like daggers to a man who truly believed he was doing the right thing. “He isn’t safe here alone, and you can’t be here all the time. No one can just... Pick up and move in with him. Besides, hasn’t he learned his lesson? He’s been hurt enough.”

“The lesson wasn’t him getting hurt,” Dream countered, a surprising take from Bad’s point of view, but he nodded nonetheless. “He was supposed to be far away from L’Manburg and learn how to be a kid, learn that people’s stuff getting destroyed  _ hurts them _ , learn how to mature and think before he acted! The people there treat him like a baby or an adult, and he isn’t either. He’s smart, so smart, and so  _ wild _ , but this isn’t his world. He needs to learn how to control it. So I took him to a spot that he could be wild in without hurting anyone and could learn how his actions hurt others.”

“So you wanted him to be exiled so you could try and parent him?” Skeppy asked, healing potion in hand as he gently fed it to the unconscious Tommy. 

“What? No. Well, kind of. But- I originally said exile as a bluff, right? I wanted Tubbo to say no, so I could force him to step down. But his position was more important than his friend.”

Bad... Suddenly had an idea of where certain things went wrong. Dream had an... Interesting way of processing the world.

“Did you...  _ Tell _ Tubbo it was a choice between his position or his friend, or did you just say Tommy had to be exiled or you would build the walls higher?”

Dream stared at him. Even through the mask, Bad could tell that he, in his anger at the time, had not even  _ considered _ explaining that.

Oh my goodness.

* * *

The night was, thankfully, not too cold, and the ragtag group of young government officials found themselves fairly warm while sitting on the barrels around the house of Logstedshire. Tubbo observed both of his companions from his perch, the highest of the three chosen. Quackity was one level below him on the opposite side while Fundy sat on Quackity’s side, but on the ground, tail mingling with the dirt. It had been fairly quiet between the three of them, in a way that all of them were familiar with: Things had gone wrong, and they had so many things to say that they found themselves incapable of saying anything.

It was like that a lot, with Schlatt.

They had talked about whether or not Tommy would be alright, where he would be put if they brought him back to L’Manburg, what to tell Phil... They wondered about why Tommy was in the Nether so late, and why he had no armor, and many other scattered things. But there were some things that they had not had the guts to talk about, yet. But someone had to. Someone had to, or things would never move forward.

“We need to put together a case,” Tubbo began. “A case for why Tommy should return to L’Manburg and end his exile. Because Dream probably wants him to stay here.”

“Right,” Quackity chimed in, eager, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “We need a foolproof list for why he should go back with us, because-”

**_“Dream!! You can’t expect him to know what he’s choosing if you don’t-”_ **

Bad’s voice rocketed through the air, and all three boys whipped to face the door, eyes wide with fear and confusion. Silence hung between them, not one of them quite sure how to react to the sudden loud sound that erupted, then left as quickly as it went. Slowly, Tubbo turned away from the door, to see Fundy and Quackity staring back at him.

“Okay, well,” Tubbo cut in, bright and cheery. Not today, he would not be unpacking that. “We need to figure out what to tell Dream. We exiled him, but we never officially revoked his citizenship. At least, I don’t think we did. So could we say that, as our citizen, we find his current safety situation unacceptable and want him back?”

“Yeah, yeah, we could say that,” Quackity agreed. “You put Tommy in Dream’s custody with the expectation that his needs would be met and he would be safe. However, it’s obvious that none of that is true, and since George’s house has already been rebuilt, we can call that reparations. Oh and- And besides, George is a citizen of  _ my _ nation now. So if he wants to continue things on behalf of George, he would have to consult my nation, in which he currently lives. So he can’t even use that.”

“So we say that we thought he would be safe, but since exile conditions have proven unsafe, we are taking back custody of Tommy and continuing his punishment by our own standards?”

“Yeah, yeah, exactly,” Quackity nodded. “We don’t even have to threaten him, we can just throw our laws at him, and we’ll be fine. We could get Tommy back in no time!”

“Alright,” Tubbo agreed. “Do you have anything to add, Fundy?”

Upon being addressed, Fundy looked up from his notebook and shook his head, then went back to his book. Huh. Fundy  _ had _ been quieter, lately. Maybe something was wrong. He should ask him later.

* * *

Fundy just wanted someone to notice that he had lost his voice.

* * *

Bad had been lecturing Dream and Dream had been alternating between ashamed and defensive for far too long, and Skeppy tuned it out as he worked on Tommy. He got a salve and some proper bandaging on his burned arm, which really was fucked, as much as he hated to say it. There were bandages on Tommy’s head wound, and had taken a better look at it. He also managed to maneuver the kid into Dream’s stained hoodie, with the right arm removed so it didn’t fuck with his burns. At least that would be better than the ratty shirt that he insisted on keeping on his body.

But he could not ignore the situation behind him for much longer.

“I’m not saying you’re  _ evil _ , Dream, you know I’m not,” Bad huffed. “I’m just  _ saying _ that-”

“Okay,” Skeppy interjected, because Bad had said almost the exact same sentence three times already, and he was losing his mind. “You two have talked to death about what you want to do. I have things I want to share with everyone, too, so call the kids in here, and we can update everyone and figure out what we will do next.  _ Okay _ , Bad?”

Dream said nothing to either them, and just walked to the door, flinging it open. Skeppy shared a sigh with his partner. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it was something.

At least it was something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This end note was written just as I finished writing. Brain was mush]
> 
> So... many... words... So many words! This is a lot of words. I don't know how to speak English anymore, my brain is only filled with fog.
> 
> But this chapter was super fun to write! I didn't expect to take 4 chapters to get through one night, but honestly I'm glad it did, because it is fun to write this way, and I think it shows the different characters well. But fear not, the plot will be moving along soon!
> 
> What was your favorite part of the chapter? Is there a part that made you curious or concerned? Please tell me, I'd love to know! ^-^


	5. Tentative Custody Arrangements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very tired... Take some more words ^-^;;

The room was filled with people again, and Tubbo wished he could run away. Take Tommy and run far, far away from everyone. From L’Manburg, from Logstedshire, from everyone and everything until finally, he’d stop running and find that this was all a dream, and Tommy wasn’t hurt after all. That everything was actually fine, and everything before had been a terrible nightmare.

But he couldn’t do that. All he could do was squish himself back into the tiny house, Quackity leaning against him in a way that he knew to recognize as an attempt to comfort him. It worked in a weird way, even though it also didn’t work too well, at the same time. It was weird. Fundy kept his distance from them, which was more and more common as of late, and fit himself into a small corner, out of the way. Bad tried to smile at them, but it didn’t really land. It was too tired and forcibly-polite to feel like a genuine greeting.

Dream was silent in the corner, close to Tommy, arms crossed like Tommy did in those rare times when he was pouting and did not feel like speaking. The anger rolled off him in waves, at least, Tubbo felt like it did. At the very least, his clear irritation made everyone linger in the silence for a moment longer. No one really knew what to say.

Finally, it was Skeppy that broke the silence. “Alright, so... I have good news, and bad news,” he began, one hand running through his hair. “You all can talk about where Tommy goes after this, but you all need to know this stuff now.”

“Will he be alright?” Quackity asked, and Tubbo knew he sounded impatient. He wanted to blame it on impatience as well, until Big Q’s hand gripped his arm, shaking with a worry he somehow managed to keep out of his voice. He was not pushing out of entitlement, but fear.

Of course he was.

“I- That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Skeppy replied. “Tommy is in bad shape, but he is not going to die, I don’t think. Do you want the good news first, or the bad news first? I’ll let you guys choose.”

“I think- I think we’d like the good news first, actually,” Tubbo tried. Dream’s mask whipped to him, silent, but in a judgemental way.

It was only a miracle that he did not flinch away.

“Oookay,” Skeppy sighed, drawing both blonds back into the conversation. Good news is that, from what I can tell before he wakes up, he’ll recover physically just fine. The healing pots helped his arm and the gash on his head is already half-healed. He should be up and moving in no time.”

Relief flooded through Tubbo. He could feel Quackity’s panic-strung muscles relax as well, from how he leaned against him. Fundy looked up, hopeful, and Dream’s shoulders dropped. That was... Until they remembered there was _bad_ news.

“So what’s the rest of it, Chief?” Quackity asked. Tubbo thought Big Q easily the bravest of out the three of them. But then again, not much had changed from Manburg, in that regard. He always looked the ugly truths in the face, even when they hurt.

Tubo still wanted to run.

“Healing potions can heal a lot of things,” Bad chimed in, the transition sudden but not shocking, given how reluctant Skeppy was to continue. “But, uh... They can’t... Muffins, this is hard to say.”

What was hard to say? Tubbo was bewildered, blinking as he turned to see if Fundy or Quackity understood what was meant. But he caught Dream’s gaze first. Saw how his hands gripped so tight at his arms that the knuckles went white, seemingly unaware of the pain, and just _knew_ he was even more upset than before. Dream _knew_.

And he filled the silence.

“Healing potions heal all physical wounds, even if it takes time, or even more than one potion to fix them,” Dream said, voice flat and devoid of any emotion. “But there are things caused by wounds that potions can’t fix. Like blindness, hearing loss, and amnesia.”

“All of those things are very likely symptoms of head wounds,” Skeppy finally explained. And Tubbo’s chest went cold.

“Well it’s- There’s nothing wrong with being blind and deaf, right, so even if he has problems with those things, we can still help,” he offered, but even he knew he was avoiding the point.

“But he won’t remember you anyway,” Dream said, flippant and mean in a way Tubbo felt only that man could ever properly pull off. “I’m sure that would be easier for you, since you don’t have to worry about feeling guilty anymore.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!” _That_ stung, unexpected and unreasonably cruel. Quackity sat up as well, glaring at Dream as if he could vaporize him with his eyes. 

“Oh, nothing, just-”

“Okay!” Bad interrupted, swift and cheerful, in that way parents and older siblings did when trying to avoid disaster from erupting. “We need to talk about who is taking Tommy. I think-”

“He is not going back to L’Manburg,” Dream said, cold. Final. “There is nothing for him there.”

“Excuse me?!” Quackity jumped on that comment like a predator that found an unsuspecting meal. Tubbo’s hand caught his arm out of instinct. “What do you mean there’s nothing for him for him there?! The kid loves L’Manburg!”

“He loves the _memories_ of L’Manburg,” Dream corrected. “He loved what it stood for, what it _represented_. That’s why he cared about the discs. It was all about sentiment and memory. What care is he going to have for a country he doesn’t remember?”

“Okay, you do have a point,” Skeppy cut in, somehow ignoring Quackity’s visible bristle, “but maybe we should let Bad make his pitch firs- Yes, Dream, before you say anything, I know you don’t like Bad’s pitch. Let him make it first before you shoot it down.”

“Fine. Please, Bad, tell us your idea,” Dream responded, seemingly focused on the wall in front of him.

Tubbo shared a look with Fundy in surprise. If they did not know better, they would think that Dream, the god of their server, just gave Badboyhalo an attitude, like a sullen teenager.

“I think,” Bad began, drawing everyone’s attention, “that Tommy should come with us. Skeppy is the person in charge of his recovery, so it makes more sense that he would live near Skeppy while he’s checking in on him everyday, right? Besides, the Badlands isn’t allied with Dream _or_ you guys, meaning we’re completely neutral. He would be safe there, and Skeppy wouldn’t have to travel long distances or teleport in a worst case scenario.”

“Okay,” Quackity said, agreeing even though Tubbo didn’t really think he was happy about all of the things happening. “Okay, so he goes with you to recover. I’m fine with that, we’re fine with that. But what are we going to do after? Wait until he’s healed and has his memories back, then send him back with that asshole who will isolate him and- And- And just do what he wants with him until he falls into another lava pit? I’m not okay with that.”

“You know, Quackity,” Bad replied, “you’re right. I don’t agree with Dream’s choice of exiling Tommy, even though I understand why he thought it was the right choice at the time.”

“It was the right choice,” Dream said, and it was so fucking _jarring_ to hear their fearless god mope like a teenager! Tubbo wasn’t sure he liked it at all. 

“I know you think so and that is your opinion,” Bad conceded, without really agreeing at all. “But anyway. What I was saying is that exile as it stands right now wouldn’t be healthy or good for anyone, once Tommy is well enough to go home. But I don’t know if we can say from what we know right now that he should go right back into L’Manburg.”

“You think we should wait?” Tubbo asked.

“Yes, exactly,” Bad confirmed. “Wait until he’s healed and his memories have started returning. Or, at least, he seems relatively stable. Because, despite the circumstances, I can understand some of Dream’s concerns. Tommy had too much pressure on him as a teenage vice president and it looks like he was lashing out to balance things out. That isn’t healthy, and he needs constructive ways to deal with those emotions. So, when he’s better, we should negotiate some better ways for Tommy, and all the other teenagers in L’Manburg, to cope with things better.”

“I mean, I agree with that,” Quackity replied, “because it’s always been weird being one of the few adults in the cabinet. And that’s not shade to Tubbo or Fundy, I just... don’t think it’s healthy for them to be doing this. We just don’t have any choice. But if the condition to letting Tommy come back is to figure out how to balance out him being a teenager and everything else, then fine. I don’t have an issue with that.”

From his corner, Skeppy yawned. Not out of boredom, but exhaustion. Fair enough.

“I do,” Dream said, and it was a miracle, at that point, that the scary god had not just picked the boy up and left. “Because he doesn’t _belong_ in L’Manburg. That country is the source of all his problems, even before you betrayed him. Going there will only hurt him more.”

“I mean, Dream, you told me to exile him-” Tubbo said, at the same time as Quackity’s comment,

“You’re the source of all his problems, not us, Dream. You’re the source.”

“Dude!” Skeppy snapped. And it startled everyone, by the look of all the faces in the room. “Listen, I get it, you guys hate each other. But it’s two in the morning, and _some_ of us need to go to sleep. We’re all agreed that, for _now_ , Tommy will stay with _us_ , where he’s _safe_ . So we’re going to take Tommy now, and _go home_. It’s a bit of a walk, though, so we’re going now. I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

Quackity’s face suggested that Skeppy was about to hear _many_ arguments. 

But he didn’t get the chance. One moment, Skeppy was there, beside the bed, lifting Tommy into his arms. The next, both of them were gone, and Bad as well. Dream stood up from his lounged position against the wall and it was as if a shapeshifter changed from one version of Dream to another. Instead of the worried, sullen young man they had seen just seconds before, there was the blank, emotionless god they had come to recognize.

Tubbo did not like it at all. Especially not the part where Tommy was gone.

“It’s late,” Dream said, pushing his way out of the building. Not even Quackity knew how to deal with Dream, who had been acting to out of character to them since the moment he ran through that portal, so let him pass. “Skeppy gave me the coordinates, and I transported them home. If you want to continue discussing this, meet me at Bad’s tomorrow afternoon.”

Tubbo wanted to respond. He did. But before anyone could manage a word, Dream had disappeared into thin air. Which was weird- Dream almost _never_ used his teleportation abilities. But he had been doing it a lot that night. 

But it wasn’t important.

“He is right, though, guys. We should go to sleep,” Tubbo said, far more to Quackity than Fundy. “There is no use mining tonight when we need to be up early tomorrow morning. So let’s go home and rest, okay, Big Q?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that,” Quackity agreed, nearly shaking. “I just- I’m sorry, Tubbo. I just. I just. I don’t trust him around Tommy at all. He- He’s worse than Schlatt, and people keep acting like he isn’t this batshit- I keep having this feeling, right? This feeling that-” He cut himself off with a yawn, and Tubbo could do nothing but sigh.

“Let’s go home, Big Q.”

* * *

Morning light streamed through the windows, welcome and calm, and Bad found himself far more relaxed when he woke up than he had during their midnight house call. He had a lot to think about, but most of it could wait. First thing’s first was checking on Tommy. Skeppy would do that as well, but Bad would feel bad if he did not make sure he was alright first thing in the morning.

Tommy had been put in the room specifically reserved for Dream. It was rarely ever used by him, but that was now a convenient point. It was an already made and furnished room, but the owner would not need it. Dream never slept nowadays, anyway.

Bad entered the room, sliding the door open slowly, and found himself wrong about his kid’s sleeping habits.

Tommy was still out, eyes closed in slumber under the blankets, green hoodie still on and right arm still visible through the missing sleeve. Beside him, on the floor, sat th slumbering figure of Dream. His bone mask had slipped off his face halfway, somehow, and Bad got a look at the two boys: His kid, the chaos avatar who tried _so hard_ but found himself slipping nonetheless, with fluffy blond hair and a recognizable face shape to those who had the privilege to see it. Tommy, the chaos gremlin who tried _so hard_ but in the wrong direction, with his fluffy blond hair.... And very similar face shape... Two appearances that, now that he had the chance to compare...

Skeppy needed to hear about this, right away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amnesia tag is becoming increasingly relevant... Don't worry about that, though. Focus on Dream being a sullen teenager every time Bad lectures him. /j


	6. The Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter doesn't flow as well- I didn't want to miss updating every day, so ended up writing with a headache. I think I did alright, though ^-^;;

The boy woke up to pain. Quite a lot of it. His arm felt like it was on fire, his head ached, his stomach and legs hurt, his spine was trying to melt from his spine... In short, the boy felt like death and it was going downhill from there. Sitting up was a struggle, with how much he hurt, but the boy did it anyway, pushing forward with a natural stubbornness that he accessed easily. He was in a room with a large glass window, green carpet, and a bed with a black blanket. The room was unfamiliar.

So was the guy sleeping on the floor. 

Random guys sleeping on the floor probably wasn’t a normal thing, but the boy did not have much basis for comparison. So instead of trying to figure out if the stranger on the floor was _supposed_ to be there, he studied them. They were tall, at least it seemed so from the current position, and seemed to like green. His shoes and pants were both lime green, but he did switch it up with the black tank top he wore. Half his face was covered by a white mask, upon which a crude smiley face was engraved and painted over. It was weird, like the mask was almost watching him. The half of the face shown to him was nowhere near as ominous and weird as the mask. Pretty normal, and not scary at all.

Maybe that was why he wore it.

But the boy was not going to sit around in pain with only a sleeping guy as his entertainment. He was becoming increasingly aware that he remembered _nothing_. Not his name, not his location, not that guy on the floor... Most certainly not why he had bandages on his arm and felt like he would perish at any moment. 

So he did the logical thing, and poked the sleeping guy’s cheek. Repeatedly. It would work eventually.

* * *

Despite his name, Dream rarely slept. There was no need to, and even if there was, he would be able to fight off any of the drawbacks to constantly staying awake. There was something that made him uneasy about being asleep, like he was vulnerable to attack every second of it. Like he almost... Wasn’t himself. But he could not avoid it forever.

Sometimes, despite there being no physical need to, he would be so stressed that his body forced him to reset with sleep.

Apparently that night had been one of those times. Tommy’s unconscious body, the late-night lectures, Quackity, _more_ late-night lectures... It must have been too much. The silence must have lulled him to sleep as he sat on the carpet beside his bed, where Tommy slept. 

Because he was woken up with pokes to his cheek. That did not often happen while he was awake.

Then his eyes were open and he looked into the wide-eyed, curious, enthusiastic look of a TommyInnit who _definitely_ had no idea who he was, and was _crazy_ for sitting up. It did not matter how well the potions worked, there was no way he was healed enough to be up and moving. And given that the kid winced every time he laughed... Dream had a suspicion he wasn’t nearly as healed as he would pretend.

Wait. His vision was crooked. Dream reached out to his mask and slid it back where it belonged, while not-Tommy (this couldn’t be Tommy, not without his memories, Dream was in charge of Tommy and _broke him_ -) stared at him with something like wonder. Right, the kid was curious. There were going to be a lot of questions.

“Why do you wear a mask?” Not-Tommy (well, sort of Tommy, he was being ridiculous and pointing, he _knew_ he was) asked, head tilted like a puppy. It was fucking cute. “Also who are you? Where are we? I don’t remember anything.”

“Hello Tommy.” That was a good beginning. “My name is Dream. I am... Your friend.”

He was. He wanted to be. Except it felt like a lie. Except Bad said, quite vigorously, that friends did not destroy each other’s things, even if it _was_ to teach him a valuable life lesson. Except Bad said that friends did not push their friend’s other companions away. Except he was also trying to get something out of it, even with the knowledge that this was all for Tommy’s own good.

It felt true. It felt false. He hated it.

“You’re my friend,” Tommy repeated, as if testing the words on his tongue. Dream just wanted him to lie back down. “Dream. My friend Dream. That makes sense.”

Half of him was overjoyed. Proud of himself, smirking and congratulating himself on a job well done. But the other half of him, the half Bad liked so much, wanted to cry. He did well, convincing Tommy he was his friend, and now that thought feels right to him, even with _amnesia_. But he shouldn’t feel that way. He should hate Dream. But he wanted to be his friend. But he wanted to use him. 

Dream... Didn’t know what he wanted.

And Tommy had definitely stopped talking by that point.

“What did you say? Sorry.”

“I asked what was going on, why I can’t remember anything. Because everything in here is a blank, just a throbbing in my head. Fuck, it’s bad, how am I even in this much pain, bro?”

“You-” _You fell because you went to the Nether to consider something worse. I should have watched over you better, made sure you never considered dropping down. It wasn’t your time to die. I never meant to break you. You broke so easily. You should have been stronger. I didn’t know how weak you were._

_I’m sorry._

“Dream?” A finger poked insistently at his temple, and he batted it away. “Dream, are you okay? You keep spacing out. Do you have memory loss, too?”

“No, no, I don’t have memory loss,” Dream sighed. Tommy was so much brighter and happier now. He hated it. ~~Harder to manipulate~~ No. Tommy should have always looked happy; Dream failed from day one. “It was a long night. You had... You had an accident, where you fell and hit your head pretty badly. You’re in my room right now at my parents’ home, where you are recovering. Your name is TommyInnit, but everyone calls you Tommy, and you’re sixteen.”

See, Bad? He _could_ talk to Tommy without lying. 

“TommyInnit,” the boy muttered to himself. Then winced again. “Why do- _Ah!!_ ”

Dream pulled his hand back, the one he used to shove at Tommy’s chest and push him back into lying down. He should feel guilty about it, he assumed, because that seemed like something Bad would be angry about. But he was not sorry at all. The kid needed to rest.

“We can talk as long as you’re lying down, Tommy,” he said, firm. There would be no more arguments, he did not care. “You’re really hurt. We fed you two healing potions and you still look like shit. Stay _down_.”

“Okay, okay, I’m staying down,” Tommy grumbled, face scrunched into a pout. “Everything hurts. Not just my head.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dream said, guilt he did not quite understand in his heart. A shard of pain in an otherwise perfect masterpiece. “You fell hard and got burned on the way. I... Tommy, I did not mean for this to happen. I did not mean for any of this to happen. Tommy, I know you don’t remember, but please believe me. This wasn’t what I wanted.”

What kind of god was he, begging an amnesiac teenager for forgiveness? A pretty shit one, probably.

“Listen dude,” Tommy yawned. “I think... I think I need to sleep again... I’m really tired. But... I believe you. You’re a... good friend, Dream. You wouldn’t want me hurt.”

Except he did. Except there was a part of him, a part that Dream learned to see as _evil_ that wanted to twist Tommy to his will just as much as he wanted to keep him far away from everything and protect him until there was nothing left that could hurt him. Except he felt so _guilty_ , like even with forgiveness, nothing mattered and he had done what he’d done.

His contemplations gave enough time for Tommy to fall asleep. If he was going to be awake so infrequently, then Dream would have to make sure he did not zone out again. He might miss out on an important opportunity. 

At some point in the silence that rose again, Dream decided he would not be moving from Tommy’s side. Tubbo and his terrible collection of children would be there soon to interrogate him and agree with Bad about all the reasons he failed as a person. If he wasn’t there, they would interrogate Tommy, yell at him until he shut down, not take his amnesia for an answer. So he stayed, a silent guardian on the floor, where he did not feel weird and he could stay close.

What he did _not_ do was message anyone that Tommy was awake for a moment. He was in pain, and needed the sleep.

Besides, Tubbo may have told him to let them know... But he never once agreed.

* * *

In the kitchen, Skeppy was doing his best to wrap his head around their newfound reality. His coffee sat forgotten as his head sat in his palms. It made sense, and no sense at all. Bad sat across from him, no longer holding his hand as he needed both of them to hold his head. 

“No,” he said, as if that would make reality go away.

“Tommy looks exactly like Dream when he was sixteen” Bad said, almost apologetic. “I mean, you’ve seen him. Doesn’t he look familiar? I couldn’t place why until I could compare them, but...”

“No,” Skeppy said again. “No. I- Do you have any idea how much more complicated all of this will be if they’re siblings? I don’t- Listen. If Dream doesn’t know, then maybe we’re better off that way.”

“We can’t just _not_ tell Dream, _Skeppy_ ,” Bad countered. “Think about it! He has a right to know. This is his-”

“Nope nope nope, we have no proof of that yet, Bad. It could be coincidental.”

“Coincidental? Coincidental my muffin! Dream looks _just like_ Tommy. And they’re both chaotic, passionate, stubborn...”

“All of those things are traits unrelated people can share,” Skeppy reminded. But even he could not convince himself that bad was wrong. “We can’t prove it.”

“So why don’t we try to prove it?” Bad asked. “We could ask them to-” 

Abruptly, Bad cut himself off and set down the mug that had been in his hands. The focus in his eyes had drifted away, leaving behind only a blank stare, as if he did not properly _see_ Skeppy at all. Did not _see_ his partner of so many years, and only saw a vague interpretation of the person named "Skeppy". Like a zombie that still remembered how to talk.

"I'm sorry, Skeppy," he said, in that stupid, _blank_ fucking tone he always used, every _fucking_ morning, and Skeppy wanted to scream. "The Egg is hungry, I need to go deliver it breakfast." 

Bad left the kitchen as quickly as he has slipped into it that morning, and Skeppy was left alone with a cup of coffee and a half-eaten steak that he did not have the appetite to finish anymore. This wasn't the first time he had been left in the kitchen alone in the morning- far from it. Before the Egg, they would sit and talk and have breakfast until both of them were awake enough to function, light-hearted and laughing as they prepared to do their daily tasks... A peace that had been prepared by a creepy, vine-growing egg stealing his partner _every single morning_ , the second it could.

Skeppy _hated_ the egg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to tell everyone that reading your comments makes my day! Thank you all so much for taking the time to comment! I hope this story continues to meet your expectations as it goes along


	7. Skeppy is Still Somehow the Voice of Reason-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: In this universe, I have coded it so the statue room is in the basement of the Skephalo mansion

Tubbo had never visited the Badlands before, he realized. Hell, with everything else that had been going on, he barely even remembered that it  _ existed _ , before the previous night. Understandably, he did not know what to expect. Diamonds, maybe, that covered everything because of Skeppy’s extreme love for them. Maybe terrifying black spires and an intimidating castle. Badboyhalo didn’t seem like someone who could go out of his way to build such a thing, but he certainly seemed like someone who enjoy  _ being _ in a castle like that, especially with Skeppy.

Who he was... Married to? Tubbo was honestly unsure about that one.

But when he and Quackity walked into the Badlands, there was nothing like that. In fact, it looked a lot like L’Manburg, in some ways, with normal, mostly-aesthetic buildings and a homely atmosphere. Excluding, well... Well...

There were  _ vines _ growing on  _ everything _ . Scarlet vines draped themselves over roofs, slithered across the ground, wrapped around lamp posts... And they all seemed completely natural, in the way that things that are alive are “natural”. But they were still  _ weird _ . Some vines were as Thin as Tubbo’s little finger, while others glowed and were as wide as Tubbo himself. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the weirdest part about the vines.

Tubbo  _ wished _ that was the weirdest part about the vines. 

What was really the weirdest part about them was that they... Moved.

“Big Q,” Tubbo said, quiet, as they walked to Badboyhalo and Skeppy’s house, both of them looking around at the veritable garden around them, “is it just me, or are those vines moving closer to us whenever we pass by?”

Quackity’s arm quickly interlocked with his and, for a moment, he felt safe.

“You’re right, Tubbo,” Quackity agreed, concern in his voice. “What the hell  _ is _ this place? Like... It feels like the vines want to  _ eat _ us.”

Tubbo shuddered. “Yeah. Yeah, they really do. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know, Tubbo. I really don’t know...”

As they reached the building, Quackity moved away, and Tubbo looked up to notice Skeppy by the open doors. He wasn’t looking at them in a judgemental or mean way, necessarily, but he looked unhappy. In that way Big Q used to when he and Schlatt had a fight and he was trying to be nice to Tubbo, but he was still kind of mad. Relationship troubles, then.

Skeppy forced a smile as Quackity led Tubbo to the doorway.

“Hey Skeppy,” Tubbo greeted with a smile. “So Tommy’s still... Tommy’s still asleep, then? No one’s messaged us and said he’s woken up.”

“No, he hasn’t. At least, Dream hasn’t mentioned it,” Skeppy said. He let them in with a nod and led the way upstairs, moving too quickly but not so fast Tubbo wouldn’t feel rude asking him to slow down. “But I haven’t seen Dream all day, so.”

“Dream? So Dream is here,” Tubbo asked. 

“Oh yeah, he hasn’t left Tommy’s side since we got here,” Skeppy said, either oblivious to the worry that sparked, or completely uncaring. He led them to a kitchen and opened a cupboard. “Do either of you want coffee?”

“No thank you, I don’t drink coffee,” Tubbo replied.

“Yeah actually, thanks. It’s been really hectic lately and I need something to wake me up.”

Quackity stepped forward and grabbed a mug out of the open cupboard, after Skeppy gave him a nod. Tubbo took a seat at the table, ignoring the half-eaten meals at two of the four places. Quackity poured his coffee from the pot and sat next to Tubbo, also ignoring the plates and cups. Skeppy did not sit down. He leaned against the wall and sighed.

“So, we should probably update you on some things, since you will be visiting more often,” Skeppy began. “The first thing is that you two can absolutely  _ not _ go into the basement.”

That was... Concerning.

“Why- Why not the basement, Skeppy?” Quackity asked, with the concern of someone who had to deal with  _ way _ too many weird people in L’Manburg and did not trust anyone fully anymore. Which was understandable.

“There is-” Skeppy looked around, as if looking for someone who would be watching them. He leaned forward, voice lowering as he said, “Listen. There is this crazy egg that is downstairs. We don’t know what it does, and it’s- It’ll be fine as long as you don’t go downstairs. Just- Don’t say anything bad about it, or Bad will flip his shit.”

Tubbo was suddenly doubting whether or not this was a safe place for Tommy to be.

His hesitance must have been noticeable, because Skeppy rushed to clarify, “It’s safe! Really, as long as you leave it alone in the basement and don’t mess with it or talk about it or talk to anyone else about it- Basically, as long as you leave it completely alone, you’ll be fine. I’ll make sure Tommy doesn’t go anywhere near it, I promise.”

“I- Skeppy, I need Tommy to be safe,” Tubbo tried. Skeppy frowned, distressed, and Quackity made a sound but didn’t continue. 

Another voice chimed in, cold as a steel blade, “Tommy  _ is _ safe, Tubbo. Bad and Skeppy are good with kids and know how to take care of him when he’s hurt.” Dream crossed his arms from his place in the doorway. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” Tubbo was flabbergasted. He really was. “Dream, I’m worried about Tommy-”

“Okay, no, we’re not arguing in my kitchen, this is the first step to bloodshed,” Skeppy interrupted. “Let’s go check on Tommy, he shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Quackity made an offended sound and, honestly, Tubbo completely got it. He did not want to fight with Dream, but he wasn’t too happy about the interruption, either. But he let Skeppy Lead him towards the staircase nonetheless, once again reminding them to  _ not go downstairs _ , and watching as Dream followed them-

Only to run around them and dash into the room like an immature child wanting to win a made-up race in the house.

* * *

Dream heard Tubbo and Quackity call after him in frustration, but he did not care. The dash was good for him, in that it slightly lessened his desire to bring his axe into someone’s neck, or start an argument with Skeppy about shutting down his fights for him. Because he was in Skeppy’s house, but  _ still _ . He should be able to fight who he wants, as an  _ adult _ . 

To his surprise, as Dream entered the room, he saw Tommy awake again. It had only been about an hour and a half, and he expected him to still be asleep. Dream also noticed, suddenly, that Tommy was sitting up, which he  _ should not be doing _ , looking incredibly spooked and pressed against the wall as if waiting for an attack. His eyes met Dream’s mask and, for a moment, there was fear within his gaze. The conflicting emotions almost made him nauseous. 

But then, like magic, Tommy relaxed again, as Dream shut the door to Tommy’s room- well, his room, but he never used it.

“Hey, Tommy.”

“Hey Dream,” he greeted, still a bit off-guard but pleased nonetheless at Dream’s abrupt arrival into his room.

Dream needed to explain things before they came in the room. Shit. How did he do this?

“So some of your... previous friends, that you weren’t really on good terms with when you got hurt, are here. I thought we would have a few days to get you adjusted before they decided to visit,” Dream admitted. “Skeppy, one of my parents, is also going to be here, but he is good. He is helping take care of you while you’re hurt.” 

He was kind of infodumping. But Tommy was nodding and he was anxious, so just kept talking.

“I just wanted you to know that you can ask them to leave at any time. I am your friend and want you to be comfortable. They... They did some bad things to you in the past, but they want to see you. I want you to feel safe.”

Tommy looked legitimately scared by Dream’s description. He was not doing a good job of making their visit seem like a neutral thing. Perhaps because he did not see it that way himself. Perhaps because he  _ thought he had more time _ , why were they visiting practically  _ first thing in the morning _ ?

“Will they hurt me?” Tommy asked, and part of him was pleased with the fear. Wanted to cultivate it. Wanted to  _ use _ it. Take advantage of the boy’s amnesia and make him into his good little puppet.

The other part of him was  _ screaming _ . 

“Uh... No,” he finally replied. “They won’t hurt you. And I’ll be- I’ll be there the entire time, in case anything happens. If you want them to leave, they’ll leave. If you want Skeppy to leave, he’ll give you some space. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Nothing could happen to Tommy. Nothing. ~~He still had plans for him~~ No. Stop. Tommy wasn’t strong enough to deal with anymore damage yet.

“Okay, then yeah, let them in,” Tommy agreed, his eyes on the door. Because people were knocking on it. Quackity was also swearing at him in Spanish, but that wasn’t important.

* * *

Tommy could only remember a few hours of information, was tired and in pain as shit, and knew basically nothing, but he still knew something was wrong with Dream. The people who walked in may have looked harmless, they were a small blond kid with a bee patch on his shirt, and a short man with black hair, in shades and a tracksuit. They were unarmed, carried no weapon. But Tommy was on his guard.

Dream was there for him when no one else was. He woke up alone, and Dream was there, sleeping on the  _ floor _ to keep him safe. He did not need to remember anything to know that he was someone Tommy could trust. So to see him so nervous, running up stairs and tripping over words as if slowing down would lead to disaster... He knew whatever those two had done to him was  _ bad _ . And he was wary.

Especially on the blond one, who looked at Tommy with such pain and concern... But then glanced at Dream with such  _ venom _ it was painful. Dream did not deserve that.

“Hey, Tommy,” the blond greeted, voice soft. “I’m, uh... I’m glad to see you’re awake. Do you- Do you know who I am?”

No. Tommy did not even have to pretend to look at the kid before he shook his head. Nothing about anything looked familiar, in the slightest. Especially not that kid. But then he felt bad, because the kid looked  _ crushed _ .

“Oh. Right,” the boy said. “You just woke up, and Skeppy said you wouldn’t have your- your memories. So no... No wonder you don’t recognize me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said, but mostly because he felt obligated. “Who are- Who are you, though? All I know is we used to be friends, but then something happened. Dream said you did something and then we weren’t friends anymore.”

“I don’t-” The boy flinched. “I would say we were still friends,” he mumbled. “We just... didn’t talk much, anymore. Oh! I’m Tubbo, by the way.”

“I’m Quackity,” the other guy said with a wave. “Vice President of L’Manburg, and Tubbo here is the President. We lead a country together. You really don’t remember that?”

Tommy turned to look at Dream, with complete bafflement on his face. But he did not think it was for the reason  _ they _ thought, because Tubbo and Quackity moved to say something and he just asked-

“Dream, isn’t this kid a child? Is that even allowed?”

Dream’s laughter was infectious and Tommy found himself laughing along. The joy was almost worth the flare up of pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone wondered why I haven't really done a Quackity POV yet: Ngl.... the only things preventing me from writing a Schlatt and Quackity side arc are my 6 schlatt and quackity drafts + not doing a Quackity POV... I wish I could say that it was for deep plot reasons, but no... I just like... Schlatt and Quackity... But don’t want to derail the plot. XD
> 
> In other news, I hope you liked this chapter! It was fun to write, and now we get next chapter, which will have Tommy learning more about his past from people! Mostly  
> Thank you all for reading! ^-^


	8. Meeting an Old Friend for the First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for nothing.

“Dream, isn’t this kid a child?” Tommy had asked, bewilderment and laughter in his voice, as if Tubbo’s sudden presidency was funny. “Is that even allowed?” 

Dream and this Tommy-but-not-Tommy laughed, as if he wasn’t even there. Clearly, he had been awake before, because how else would he know who Dream was? But to laugh at Tubbo as if he wasn’t in the room... It made his blood boil. Of course, Tommy wasn’t to blame, he had no memory and was trying to understand. But still... It killed him.

“There is no age limit on running the country,” Tubbo said, trying not to sound too upset or seem even slightly angry. Even though he was- At Dream. Who somehow seemed to be smirking at him, even with the mask covering his entire face. ”But, uh, before we- Uh, how are you- Tommy, how are you feeling? Are you in pain at all?”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy said, matter of fact. “Everything hurts like a bitch. Dream keeps negging me to stop sitting up. How did I get hurt, anyway? Was that one of the bad things you guys did to me?” 

That hurt. It wasn’t true but it hurt. Quackity looked at him in concern as his breath hitched. “N- No, that was an accident,” Tubbo said. “You were in the Nether -this, like, other realm filled with lava- and a fireball hit you, so you fell and got really hurt. We were too far away to help.”

He did not know if Tommy would believe him, when he looked at Dream like some sort of fucking  _ savior _ , but he had to try. Tommy did seem to believe him- maybe he had already been told, during that time he was awake and no one told him. But, still, he glanced briefly to Dream. If Tubbo had not been watching every movement, he may never have seen the look, and the affirming nod from Dream in return.

Dream was fact-checking everything he said.

“Um, actually, Tommy,” Big Q chimed in, probably also aware of the situation, “can we talk to you alone? There are a lot of people in the room right now, and we don’t want to overwhelm you. Especially because you probably have a lot of questions about your life before.”

“Oh, I do, but I don’t need to ask  _ you _ ,” he replied, and damn if it didn’t sound accusatory. “I’ll just ask Dream.”

_ Tubbo did not want him to ask Dream _ . 

“We know more about you than Dream does,” Tubbo countered. “I’m your family. I’m- We grew up around Wilbur together, you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember! We didn’t meet Dream until we were- Until we were like fourteen or sixteen. So if you really wanted to know about yourself, I would be your best bet. Because, well, Wilbur is... And Ghostbur isn’t... Well, you see-”

And Tommy had stopped paying attention again, his gaze focused on  _ Dream _ . Again! Why Dream?

“Wilbur was like your older brother, from my understanding,” Dream explained, in a gentle tone that managed not to be patronizing. “You two didn’t like to talk about it much, but I always gathered that he found you in some capacity and took you in when you were, like, young. He died after blow- After doing some bad things, and he came back as a ghost. But that ghost, Ghostbur, has really bad memory and he doesn’t really... Remember you all that well.”

“Oh, so amnesia runs in the family, huh?” Tommy chuckled, as if it was the most light-hearted thing to say. Tubbo flinched in his corner.

Tommy wasn’t safe here. Not around Dream. He always had to have his hands in  _ something _ , had to meddle in  _ something _ . He did not know what Dream wanted with Tommy, but he would not let him get it. He wouldn’t.

“You know, if you came back to L’Manburg with us, we could show you around and explain things better there,” Tubbo said. “You could even meet Ghostbur and Phil. And Fundy, Wilbur’s son. He’s a good guy, but he didn’t feel well so he stayed home today.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dream cut in, before Tommy could even try to speak. “I don’t mind... Visits to check up on his health, or talks about what happened before, as long as you tell the whole truth, but Tommy just woke up from bad injuries today. If he even leaves the house, I’m worried he’ll get hurt again.”

“I agree with most of that,” Skeppy agreed. “Also, shit. Hi, Tommy, I’m Skeppy, Dream’s parent, and the one who’s been keeping you alive. As much as I love this chaos... Are you feeling okay? Anything specific hurt worse than anything else? Dizziness, deafness, trouble seeing...?” 

As Skeppy rattled off symptoms, Tubbo just looked at Quackity, bewildered. Honestly, he thought the Skeppy having medical training part of the night before had just been a strange dream that had mixed with the memories. As well as Skeppy being Dream’s dad, because that was just... That was just weird. He wasn’t sure if he liked that.

Quackity, to his credit, looked no less baffled than Tubbo.

Some time passed where quick medical details were shared; Tommy was feeling mostly fine with no specific concerns beyond wanting breakfast, no deafness or blindness, mostly just hungry. Skeppy made sure Tommy was okay with people being there, and he was... And Tubbo and Quackity were communicating in facial expressions and subtle gestures. Until Dream’s voice cut into their silent staring and confusion. 

“Alright, now that we have the medical situation covered... Tubbo, Quackity, if you two are not going to tell Tommy more about himself, then I am going to ask you to leave,” Dream said, firm. “I am not going to leave the room, because I do not want you two to try and convince him to make the journey back to L’Manburg. Even if he was allowed, he would get hurt. It’s not happening.”

There were times in which Tubbo remembered he  _ was _ capable of hatred. No matter  _ how _ nice Dream seemed to be. 

“I- I’m not actually sure if I want them here for long,” Tommy cut in. And it  _ killed _ him. It really did, like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. “I know you don’t like them being here, Dream, because you haven’t given me any background knowledge of like, anything, yet and I’m pretty sure you were going to do that... And I’m not sure I want to have things explained to me by my former friends that I already know hurt me.”

Tubbo wanted to disappear. He genuinely wanted to go invisible, walk away, and never be seen again. Because no matter how much he justified it... He  _ did _ do that.

“I just have one question for you- Tubbo, right?” Tommy continued. “What  _ was _ it that was so bad that Dream had to warn me about it? What did you do to me?”

“I... Tommy, I- Dream, he-” The words felt like rocks in Tubbo’s throat. It was hard to breathe, but he managed to nonetheless. “Tommy, I... I exiled you. I was given a choice between inescapable walls around our city and exiling you and I- I chose the nation over you. Tommy, I’m sorry. I’m-” Tears welled in his eyes. “Tommy, I am  _ so  _ sorry. You’re my best friend, I never should have sent you off to some unclaimed island over a burnt house. Tommy, I...”

“Oh.” Tommy seemed to have shut down, either from exhaustion or the weight of Tubbos words. “I- No, yeah, that’s... That’s pretty bad. I’m- Dream? Dream, I’m tired. Can I get- Can I get something to eat, then go back to sleep again, please?”

He sounded so  _ pathetic _ . Tubbo wanted to disappear.

* * *

Meanwhile, Bad was downstairs, cross-legged and sitting in silence. The statue room was quiet, like it always. The floor under Bad was warm as he sat next to the Egg. He had taken to doing that as of late, just spending time with the Egg and taking in its beauty. It seemed to enjoy the company, even talking to him sometimes. It was nice, those quiet moments between just the two of them. He liked it being just the two of them.

As soon as he thought that, the image of Skeppy flashed through his mind- sent from the Egg, a continuation of a long-running discussion between them. Skeppy, who was  _ blue. _ Who always seemed to be around when the bloodlines got destroyed. Skeppy, the threat, the danger,  _ could hurt the Egg, could KILL the Egg- _

Fear gripped him. No, no. Not his Skeppy. Not Skeppy,  _ not Skeppy _ . 

“No, no,” he said, and pushed gentle waves of reassurance towards the Egg. “No, no. Skeppy is a friend. We need him in order to stay alive. I need him.” 

_ <Need him?> _

The curiosity was reassuring. Or course it was. Why he would be concerned about or scared of the Egg? The Egg was beautiful. Precious. Safe.

“Yeah! I need him,” Bad said. Maybe if he started with that, he could slowly convince the Egg to love Skeppy as much as he did. “He is like... The source of my life. I am a demon, and can only exist so long in the Overworld without a source. If I don’t have my source, then I begin to die, technically, and have to go back to the Nether. Besides- As long as he’s alive,  _ I _ get unlimited lives. No matter what happens! So we need him.”

_ <He’s just a source, then. Food.> _

“Not- Not really food, exactly. More like a- Like, a- Uh, what’s it called, there used to be a word for this, so so long ago... Uh... Oh! A battery. Like a battery. But he isn’t  _ just _ a source. He’s also-”

_ <A source. A battery. A fuel source or save point. Just a tool.> _

“No! No, no,” Bad protested, but his voice was not as strong that time, not as convinced. His resolve was weakening.

Bad could feel the Egg in his mind. So gentle yet unrelenting, taking over his mind. On the outside, his eyes went completely blank. Almost no trace of  _ Bad _ lingered at all.

A perfect little puppet.

“Yeah...” he said, distant and slow. “Yeah, he just- We never get along, anyway. I practically ha- We never get along.”

The Egg hummed its approval.

“He is just... A battery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Thanks for stopping by. Just want to say please don't be confused or worried if there's no chapter tomorrow. There's a high chance I will be busy with family things tomorrow so won't have time to write. That's not a guarantee of skipping tommorrow's update, but it is a likely option. ^-^
> 
> I hope that tomorrow goes well for all those who celebrate, or have family&friends who celebrate, Christmas! And if it doesn't, well, fanfiction is always here for you. ^-^;; Good luck!


	9. Plans and Loyalties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Surprise! Guess who had some unexpected free time? Here's an early chapter! Hope you enjoy

Tubbo and Quackity were _finally_ gone, so Dream found himself in the kitchen with Skeppy. Typical activities- chopping potatoes and cooking pork chop, so that both he and Tommy actually ate real food that day. It was an odd thing, to be back home and cooking, like he did as a teenager. He did not like thinking of himself as nostalgic or homesick; Dream was practically a _God_ , he did not need a home. Hell, he didn’t even need a _house_. 

But there was something reassuring about the silence of a kitchen where both he and Skeppy were too upset to properly talk, so worked on getting _something_ done together. It felt like home.

But he couldn’t sit in the silence for long. There was part of him, a part so _weak_ and malleable, that could not bear to see his parent so distressed. He first start meddling when he was thirteen, just to keep Bad and Skeppy from making each other miserable, after all. It was, as much as he hated it, a core of who he _was_. 

So he spoke up. 

“So, I haven’t seen Dad today,” he started. A good start. No accusations or conclusions, just an observation, which would mean anything. It didn’t have to mean the Egg in the basement. Using _Dad_ instead of _Bad_ didn’t hurt, either; his parents liked to pretend they weren’t family folk, but they were a _sucker_ for Dream recognizing that they were his family. 

Which helped when he needed them to talk things out with him. 

“Yeah,” Skeppy sighed, the sizzling of pork suddenly seeming to increase in volume to drown out the mix of emotions hidden in the undertones of his voice. “Well, you know how Bad is. He’s been obsessed with that Egg for a couple months, now. He spends almost all day with it, now. You probably won’t see him much, so I’ll be the one mostly looking after Tommy. But I didn’t do too bad with you, huh?” he added with a shaky laugh. Shit.

“I think you did pretty well,” Dream assured immediately. Even if he hadn’t believed it, he would have said it as easily as if it were true. Maybe it made him a bad person that he would lie so easily, but he didn’t think so. “I’m still planning on taking Tommy home when he’s well enough. But until then... I can’t think of anyone else I would trust more to look after Tommy. Bad isn’t the only reason I turned out so well, you know.”

That clicked. Of course it would; Dream knew his parents better than anyone else. But it was still relieving to see Skeppy’s shoulders drop and hear him give a sigh of relief. 

“You think so?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Dream threw the potatoes in the pan, hearing their sizzle, but his focus was on Skeppy and his reactions. “Bad is just as chaotic as us, he just has different lines that he refuses to cross. Don’t think I don’t know that he wants to claim all unclaimed land for the Badlands. And remember when I was a kid, and he constantly threatened to break your legs?”

“Oh god,” Skeppy laughed. “You remember that. That was wild.”

“I’m just saying that Bad contributed to some things that aren’t always completely good things in my personality,” Dream continued. “But he helped me with some of the morality things as well. I still don’t get it, and maybe a Demon shouldn’t have been teaching me, but... It is what it is. And that’s the same with you. You absolutely added some... Interesting coping skills to my life, but I also learned a lot from you. You were a great parent, growing up.”

Skeppy was fully facing him then, meat completely forgotten. 

“You really think so.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Dream stirred the potatoes and gave a subtle nod to the meat, which easily redirected Skeppy’s attention. Couldn’t have Tommy eating burnt food. “Like... Bad was the one who comforted me when things went wrong, and tried to fix my problems when they happened. And I appreciate him for that. He did the best he could with me. But, you-” He suddenly realized that he had never actually said the next part aloud before.

“But?”

“Oh, I just. I just realized we haven’t really... Talked about my childhood before, is all,” Dream said. “But I don’t mind, really. You were... You were the parent I could go to when I needed to be _understood_ . Not really told I was right, or even agreed with at all. Just... When I needed someone to understand why I would _want_ to do certain things, I always felt safe coming to you. So you looking after Tommy... I trust it. I’m still worried about Dad, of course, but having just you here isn’t, like, a _detriment_ to Tommy’s recovery.”

“Oh. That’s- That’s good to hear,” Skeppy confided. “Honestly, I...”

“Um, Skeppy,” Dream said, as his parent trailed off. It wasn’t intentional, but it worked. Skeppy looked up from his pan, interested. Focused. 

“Yeah, Dream?”

“The Egg. How dangerous do you think it is? If Bad’s in danger...”

“That’s the thing,” Skeppy said, as he moved the pork onto plates. The potatoes were almost done. Dream wondered if Tommy was even still awake, but dismissed it. This was more important, for now. “I don’t _know_ if Bad is in danger. Bad is, like, this Egg’s chief servant. He feeds it rotten flesh and is the reason other people are obsessed with the thing, coming in at odd hours just to sit in my basement and _stare_ at it! He’s threatened other people over the Egg, though, so, I- I don’t know, Dream. I just don’t know.”

“Bad might be dangerous to other people,” Dream voiced. “But you don’t want to think about that, because he’s _Dad_ and the platonic love of your life. Bad being dangerous -really dangerous- feels wrong.”

“It does,” Skeppy sighs. “Listen, I don’t want you to worry, but- I think... Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. But I think Bad might end up liking the Egg more than me. And I don’t know what I’ll do when the Egg is more important. Bad... I have had to be his impulse control, and it is _weird_ for that to be what’s happening. If he stops listening to me, I genuinely think he’ll do something- Something bad.”

Worry flashed through Dream- for more reasons than one. “Would he hurt Tommy?”

“No,” Skeppy said, assured. “Bad would never hurt a kid. Tommy’s under his protection, anyway. He wouldn’t hurt him. Even if he tried, I wouldn’t let him. But he wouldn’t try.”

“I see.”

Of course, that made the situation incredibly complicated. He trusted Skeppy, as much as Dream could ever actually trust anyone. He trusted Bad- Hell, that was his _Dad_ . Bad and Skeppy had raised him since they found him as a toddler, they were the closest thing to family he’d ever have. But Tommy was- He couldn’t place it, but that part of him that just Knew things sometimes _knew_ Tommy had to be protected. He was special. 

But he would never want his parents to think he did not trust them. That was not what he was hoping to learn when he got Skeppy to open up to him.

Thankfully, he noticed the potatoes were done before his pondering got them burnt.

“I am not moving Tommy until he is well enough to travel,” Dream said. “That was always the plan. I am not going to uproot him after a day just because things got... Complicated.”

“Okay. Okay, good,” Skeppy said, truly seeming grateful for the “concession”. “Listen, Dream, I just want Bad to be okay, okay? I- Listen, I worry about him. I would- I would be willing to do almost anything to get him back. Sometimes, when he visits the Egg, he forgets- He forgets he _loves_ me, Dream. I- I don’t think Tommy is in danger, I wouldn’t let him be here if he _was_. But, Dream-”

Tears welled in Skeppy’s eyes and Dream gently took the plates of food from him so they would not drip into the food. Or, worse, drop them on the floor.

Dream really felt for Skeppy, he did. Bad leaving him was his parent’s worst nightmare, above anything else that could possibly happen in the world. The idea that Bad, who literally _knit their souls together_ , wouldn’t want him anymore... Dream could understand the anger and the breakdowns. 

He was taught to meddle by his parents. So he was damn well going to meddle.

“Alright,” Dream said, lifting Tommy’s plate. It was red and white, as was appropriate. “I am going to bring Tommy his food, if he’s awake, and make sure he’s alright. He was very shaken after they left. Once I am done with that, we can figure out a plan that gets Bad back and protects Tommy.”

It was not often that family conflicts forced him to meddle, now that he moved out. But this one.. This one he could not let go.

* * *

L’Manburg was a mess. Even in the kindest of assessments, the country was only standing because of a few wishes and a miracle. Fundy sat in the white house and thought, not for the first presidency, that no one in the government should actually be there. 

Tubbo was a sixteen-year-old child who traded first dates and spending time with his friends for late nights, paperwork, and learning legal terms. Quackity was vice president yet _again_ , twenty-one and absolutely in the wrong place. He was still grieving Schlatt, even though he pretended he wasn’t as much as Fundy pretended he did not miss Wilbur, and had so much unchecked anger from those two years of abuse that made up the Manburg presidency that he was willing to fight anyone at any time. He was also the leader of El Rapids, which used to be Mexican L’Manburg, and was another reason for Quackity to grieve. After all, Quackity did not _give birth_ to a dirt mountain, even though he did give birth to a child. A dirt mountain made a damn fine memorial for someone who was trying not to show he was grieving, or building a memorial at all. The loss of that clearly hit him hard, as much as he claimed it didn’t. Q should have taken a good year off to process everything before he tried to be in the government again. As for Fundy...

He was only still in his position because he knew abandoning Tubbo would make everything worse, and probably send everyone into an irreparable breakdown. He lost his father less than a month ago, lost his nation twice in a row, had a _very_ strained relationship with Tommy, only for Tommy to have no memories at all, now. He still missed Wilbur and Schlatt, sometimes, even though neither of them should have _ever_ been president. 

All three members of the cabinet were absolute messes and should not have been given real authority in any sense.

On one hand, Fundy was upset that, in the chaos of everything, his breakdowns when everything got too much went completely unnoticed. Surely someone noticed how he locked himself in an abandoned meeting room and screamed and sobbed until he couldn’t do it anymore. Until he completely lost his voice for a day or two, because of the screaming and incessant yelling his emotions at the walls.

But at the same time... Did he really want Tubbo and Quackity to notice? They had too much on their plates to worry themselves with him. Especially when, technically, he was fine. He had Phil. 

He... totally had Phil.


	10. Heart-to-Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was talking with my dear friend and we started to wonder: What makes me writing style enjoyable for you to read? Was it your ADHD, your Homestuck phase, or both? 
> 
> (kind of joking but also please, feel free to answer XD)

Within the walls of the White House, the child president finally felt safe enough to sit in the corner of his room, cover his ears, and feel crushed by the weight of reality.

The world was moving too fast. It was, and Tubbo could not keep up with it. Tommy had amnesia and was living in the Badlands, with a Dream that seemed like he was losing his mind, or very good at acting. Just a day before, Tommy was _fine_ . Exiled, but fine. A month ago, he and Tommy were best friends, closer than ever, _happy_ and safe in a country that they took care of together. No one was exiled at all. Three months before that, Schlatt was still alive and president, while Tommy was exiled with Wilbur, and he kept going to visit them. Two years before that, _Wilbur_ was president, and the year before that L’Manburg didn’t even _exist_ . Everything was always changing and he couldn’t keep up. But, in all honesty, Schlatt’s rule was terrible, but a manageable kind of terrible. _Consistently_ terrible. He knew what to expect.

Everything around those two years, however, had just gone to shit. No one knew what would happen next and absolutely no one knew what to do _now_. 

Tubbo was president. Just turned 17 and president of a nation. Everything was terrible and falling down around him. Even as he managed to keep L’Manburg on the right path, he had to wonder what the right path was leading _towards_. Tommy was gone, Phil had lost all respect for them the day that they officially banned Technoblade from entering their borders, and the White House was just the Schlatt cabinet without Schlatt. 

What were they even working towards?

There was no big bad to conquer, now. Schlatt was gone. He was dead and never coming back. Even if he was, he would be under Quackity’s control and jurisdiction. After all, Tubbo never had any illusions about why Big Q didn’t want there to be a law against nether-sourced rituals. It was unlikely that he would ever do it, but if he did, they could use it. Schlatt was not a threat to them.

Technoblade was firmly in retirement. Any attempts to contact him were shut down and Phil was absolutely _not_ happy to hear they had been trying. Even as they prepared the Butcher Army, Tubbo wasn’t sure they would ever attack him without him making the first move. What would be the point? He wasn’t the villain anymore.

Wilbur wasn’t even the villain anymore. Anything that made Wilbur _Wilbur_ had disappeared when Ghostbur took over. Tubbo genuinely didn’t think of them as the same person, so he could not punish Ghostbur for Wilbur’s crimes, or even get any answers from him. 

Any time Tubbo thought he had a handle on what was going on and could actually settle into his new world, something else happened and knocked any sense of stability he had completely out of the boat, leaving him stranded and alone. There couldn’t be a bad guy to defeat for more than five seconds before they disappeared, or Tubbo found himself completely unequipped to fight them. Everything was moving too fast, and it felt like he was reacting to everything five beats after it happened. 

He was president, he was supposed to be in charge. He _needed_ to be in charge.But instead, he was sinking in an ocean of responsibilities. 

God, he couldn’t do this alone; he needed to talk to someone.

He couldn’t ask any more from Fundy, who didn’t feel well and was struggling worse than _him_ in some respects. Of course, if he did, Fundy would do his best to complete the tasks assigned to him. But he couldn’t do that to him. It wouldn’t be fair. Fundy couldn’t see _Tommy_ that day because he wasn’t doing well. He couldn’t see _Tommy_ during a time he wanted so badly to make sure he was okay. How could Tubbo pour more work on him?

He couldn’t go to Phil, who was angry with him. Still angry with him. Had threatened him, but not in a mean way, over the idea of him harassing Technoblade. He didn’t know how he managed to threaten him nicely, but he did. However, he had a feeling Philza would not be so nice the next time Tubbo bothered him, and he did not want to bother him.

He couldn’t go to Niki: She wasn’t in town, hadn’t been in town since she met Ghostbur and suddenly had a “family emergency”. Besides, some part of him didn’t think she liked him all that much.

Tommy wasn’t an option for the obvious reasons.

Which left Quackity. Quackity, who had gone through hell and back, then right back through hell in what seemed to be a constant pendulum trip of suffering. Tubbo felt bad for him, he really did. But he was also the only person who he could rely on right then. 

So, despite having parted ways with him just an hour prior, Tubbo found himself knocking on his front door.

* * *

Of all the things Quackity was expecting after their rather hasty return to L’Manburg, Tubbo appearing on his doorstep was absolutely not one of those things. But he didn’t mind it, not at all. The kid was essentially his step-child, president or not, and he had no issue helping him with whatever he needed, whether it be official business or personal. So he ushered him in without a second’s thought.

They walked through the entryway and into the kitchen, where he started grabbing cups.

“Hey, Twobo,” he greeted, tone jovial by intention. This was not the first time Tubbo needed someone to lean on, and his negative energy didn’t help the kid’s mood one bit. “What did you need me for? Also do you want juice or water?”

“Water is fine, thank you.” Tubbo took a chair and took the water-filled cup that Quackity slid to him. “Sorry to bother you, I know we’ve just seen each other.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Quackity said, as he took his chair. “Really, it’s fine. You doing okay, man? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m- I’m fine,” Tubbo tried to assure, “I’ve just been, um, thinking. You know, about L’Manburg and all that. And Tommy. It’s... It’s a lot, you know? It feels like everything is changing, all the time.”

“Yeah, I feel you. There are multiple countries that weren’t here when you were born,” Quackity said. “Hell, there are countries that weren’t here last _year_. Everything is moving really fast.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo sighed. “It... You know, sometimes, I kind of miss Schlatt.”

“Oh?” Quackity did as well, but he had never expected Tubbo to feel that way. It wasn’t a bad thing, just unexpected.

“Yeah. I mean, he was terrible. He was... Not really that nice, and he treated you and Fundy terribly. For uh, different reasons, I think, but...”

“Yeah, no, the one thing we really had in common was something Schlatt only knew applied to me. That wasn’t something he was hung up on. It was the, uh, rest of it that made it a thing.”

“Yeah. But I just... He was predictable, you know? I never know what Dream will do next. _Especially_ not with Tommy. I never expected Technoblade would go into retirement and I always thought that Philza would side with us if something went wrong. But...”

“But those things happened, and now you don’t know what to think,” he finished. He could empathize, a lot. Having one’s world completely shaken was terrible. “You know, let me tell you something, Tubbo.”

“What is it, Big Q?”

“It’s- Listen, it isn’t healthy, but it’s _okay_ to miss toxic people. Because even though they sucked, and made things worse, you trusted them. And they provided for you something you couldn’t get anywhere else. So yeah, he was terrible but safe. And now, things aren’t really safe or predictable, and still terrible. I’m not saying we should bring Schlatt back just to recreate Manburg, but-”

“But it isn’t wrong for me to want that stability back, is what you’re saying,” Tubbo finished. And while Quackity hated being interrupted... He didn’t mind so much when Tubbo did it.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Listen, I was thinking- Not about the Schlatt thing, but about what we need to do to stop from being crushed under the unsanity we live in. We need a meeting.”

“A meeting? What kind of meeting?” Tubbo asked, brows furrowed. 

For some reason, Quackity _properly_ looked at him in that moment- Tubbo’s roots were growing in, brown in the same shade of Schlatt, and he realized, in an uncomfortable moment, that Tubbo looked _a lot like Schlatt_. Would look even more like him if he quit dyeing his hair blond.

But nope! He was not going to think about that at all. That went in a box, like Tubbo as a kid, and would never be thought about again (not like Tubbo, who was probably thought about all the time). 

“Uh... Wait, shit. Sorry for spacing out. Sorry. Not like, a meeting where we announce things. But you, me, and probably Fundy should have breakfast in the mornings or something. The Manburg crew! And every time we get freaked out, we can talk about it at that breakfast, or lunch, probably lunch would be better, right? But anyway, it’s a routine. So no matter if there’s another war, or if Tommy isn’t back for a little while, or Dream’s being cryptic in his dad’s basement-” that made Tubbo laugh, “-we will always have lunch together, where we can group.”

“One normal thing we can focus on,” Tubbo nodded. “I like it. I’ll ask Fundy about it later. But also, uh, speaking of Fundy... Did you notice he’d lost his voice? He couldn’t speak when I asked if he wanted to come with us to see Tommy today.”

* * *

Dream walked downstairs with two empty plates and Skeppy was, quite honestly, relieved. He refused to buy into Bad’s “secret brother” theory, because if anyone who looked eerily like someone else was related to that person, Tubbo would have a shitty parent, and he probably wouldn’t even be the only one with surprise family members. So without proof, he wasn’t going to assume shit. But, if he did buy into that theory, he would remember that Dream _hated_ eating whenever he felt the littlest bit sick, and they had to get quite creative in order to get him to eat.

Usually “creative” meant bribery or just calling Sapnap, who would get creative for them. But still.

“So he really was hungry,” Skeppy said, as Dream started washing the dishes. 

“Yeah, he was,” Dream said. “He wasn’t up to talking much, but I didn’t really expect him to be. He’s having a hard time processing everything. I don’t really think it’s the exile that’s upsetting him, because he doesn’t remember anything about the nation he was exiled from. It was how it was told to him that’s making him shut down.”

“The crying,” Skeppy filled in. “He probably doesn’t have the tools to deal with the crying so soon after waking up.”

“Yeah,” Dream sighed. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t ban them from visiting him; all they have to do is revoke his citizenship, say you guys have him without their consent, and use it as ammunition for another war. Bad would get pissed at me if I told him to just stop crying...”

“Yeah,” Skeppy chuckled. “That would not go over well.”

“Speaking of Bad-”

Footsteps were heard from the entrance of the basement; both Skeppy and Dream froze, eyes on the trapdoor. 

“What about me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I just want to clarify one of the themes on this story: Missing an abuser is normal, and the characters act as if it is okay and fine. However, I assure you, life is much better away from that person than with them. 
> 
> Everything in this story is entertainment, and entertainment only! Please **do not apply the themes in this story to real life**. I do not encourage returning to one's abuser/s, and in fact encourage you to not do it at all, unless there is definitively no other choice. 
> 
> _**Please**_ stay safe.


	11. Struggles and Revelations [Aka: Badboyhalo Cannot Keep Secrets]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a second chapter in the same day, I don't know what you mean... /s

“What _about_ me?” Bad asked, tone deceptively light as he leaned against the doorframe. He’d never done that before, but it wasn’t a bad stance. Made him feel powerful- especially because it made _Skeppy_ feel nervous.

~~ wait no he shouldn’t be nervous no NO NO ~~

Why did he even marry him again? ~~wait, why would he even ask that? he LOVED skeppy~~

Skeppy shifted away, hands raised in surrender ~~no, no, no, WAIT~~ and Bad suddenly realized he had pulled out a sword, which rested easily in his hand. It was a good weapon, made from the Nether and perfectly suited to him. He liked using this weapon. When was the last time that he properly got to use it? It had been his since before he ever left the Nether, but it often sat in his inventory or in the Otherspace... Barely used.

Demons thrived on bloodlust. ~~no, they didn’t, not always, he didn’t need to use that, he didn’t, NO~~ Why would he deny himself what he wanted?

“Hey.... Bad...” Skeppy said, after a moment.

It had been too long a moment. Too much hesitation. It made Bad so frustrated. He couldn’t even ask a _question_ without the dumb muffin freaking out. He wasn’t doing anything _wrong_ . He could have a weapon in his own home. ~~no, not that sword, not that one, put it away, PLEASE~~ Skeppy didn’t even belong here, anyway. ~~no. NO. he did belong there, he DID belong there, please, please no, PLEASE NO, don’t hurt him don’t hurt him don’thurthimDON’T _PLEASE-_~~

“Hey Skeppy,” Bad said, words clipped. “Are you really not going to tell me what you two were talking about? That’s really immature of you, Skeppy.” 

He flinched at Bad’s words, and the satisfaction mixed with the revulsion to create a feeling he didn’t like at all. But he didn’t wince, didn’t show his discomfort at all. It was fine. ~~it wasn’t fine it isn’t fine oh god oh god oh god dream please notice don’t let me hurt skeppy get out get safe take them with you dream PLEASE~~

Unfortunately, ~~_thankfully_~~ Dream stepped up and put himself in-between Skeppy and Bad. Bad could not hurt Dream. Bad could never hurt Dream, _would_ never hurt Dream. He wouldn’t hurt Skeppy, either, he ~~loved~~ needed him, to stay alive. But Dream was infinitely more protected. 

So Bad put away his sword as his ~~_their_~~ son got in-between them, as friendly and non-threatening as possible.

“Hey, Bad! We were just talking about how Tommy was a new addition to the household, and would throw off the balance for a while, until you two got adjusted, and we were wondering how much he would be able to see you,” Dream explained, friendly as ever. It ~~was said in the voice he used when he was lying~~ made sense. It was a reasonable explanation. ~~good.~~

Slowly, Bad relaxed, and he stood up properly. Everything was fine ~~for a degree of fine~~. They were just having a conversation and he startled them. Although, honestly Skeppy’s face was kind of.... ~~Cute.~~ Cute.

Wait. What? ~~what?~~

_Anyway._

He blinked, and flashed his signature smile. It was fine. ~~it was fine~~. 

“Oh! That makes sense. Sorry, I’ve been a little _testy_ lately. But I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Don’t worry, I’ll absolutely make sure to spend time with him. I know you hated being lonely as a kid, so your brother wouldn’t be any different.”

Oh, oops. ~~we weren’t supposed to say that! oh no! muffin~~

Dream and Skeppy both froze again. Dream in his confused way, and Skeppy in his _oh my god how could you say that we talked about this what are you doing?!_ kind of way. Which was annoying.

~~ No, it was cute. ~~

Well... Kind of cute. Supposedly.

~~_Very_ ~~ ~~cute.~~

“Brother?” Dream asked, clearly hoping he had misheard. He clearly had not. Skeppy was wheezing in the background, and Bad felt amused ~~guilty~~.

_Amused._

~~ **_guilty._ ** ~~

“It’s a bad theory,” Skeppy explained, quickly, even though his words were not quite accurate. Bad _knew_ he was right. _Idiot._

~~ hey! he's not an idiot! skeppy isn’t dumb! ~~

...Probably an idiot. ~~**_hey!_**~~

“It’s- Sorry, Dream,” Bad apologized. “It was something I thought about when I saw how similar you two looked. He looks _just_ like you when you were that age, you know. And it was very possible you did have a younger sibling, so I just thought...”

“Bad, he can’t- No! That’s not- _Bad_ !” came Dream’s flustered sputters. “Tommy isn’t my _brother_ . He’s just some kid that looks a little like me with chaotic tendencies that I’m taking care of. He isn’t- He isn’t my _brother_ . That doesn’t make sense. Besides, I’ve always kind of thought he was _Wilbur’s_ kid.”

“Oh no,” Bad corrected. He could not let _that_ misconception stand. “Oh no no. Wilbur raised him and is like a brother _to_ him, but he wasn’t involved in that creation. It wouldn’t have made sense. Besides, I found out that Wilbur found him on the day that it happened. Wilbur definitely found him somewhere, he didn’t _make_ him. Phil and I talked at the time, and he told me the story. It wouldn’t make sense for him to be Wilbur's son, especially when Wilbur was only _sixteen_ at most. I really think he's your brother!”

Few people were able to look so disconcerted they wanted to disappear _while_ wearing a mask that covered their whole expression. Bad was very proud of his ~~and skeppy’s!~~ kid for managing it.

* * *

No. No. Dream was not even _entertaining_ that line of thought! Absolutely not! He did _not_ go to war multiple times with his kid brother. That would take _family wars_ faaar too literally, and he was _not_ going to be the one to make that a thing. Absolutely not. Absolutely not, he did not care if Tommy was adopted, that didn’t make sense. He refused.

Bad was looking at him in that parental-amused way. Shit. He hated that.

_ <Quackity whispered to Dream> _

_Quackity: hEEEY DREAM random question no reason_

_Quackity: do you have any reason to believe Schlatt had a kid? No reason, just asking_

That was too much to deal with, all at once. Nope, no no no. Why was all the random relative stuff happening at _him_. No, one at a time. The less-traumatizing once first.

“As interesting a theory as that is, Bad,” Dream began, backing out the door, “someone just messaged me and needs my help. So I’m going to- I’m going to go, and we can all talk about Tommy another time. The child who is _not_ my brother. Anyway, _byedadsIloveyoubye_.”

Bad’s laugher chased him out of the house, as he scampered down the hall, desperate to escape _that_ conversation. Nopenopenope. 

_Dream: why do you ask? did you find a child or something?_

_Quackity: right NOW? No... but-_

_Quackity: Listen, can you just tell me if you know of him having a kid? Ever? Please say no i would like to be crazy in this situation, actually_

Well then.

* * *

_In his room, Tommy dreamed. Tall walls of rock surrounded him on both sides, the sky a barely-visible sliver above him that provided minimal light. Fear clutched his chest as he made his way around, careful not to hurt himself. And careful not to-_

_Get caught._

_He whipped around, dream-logic knowing that he should, that there was_ **_something_ ** _there._

_A man stood behind him, one hand on the right wall, and grinned, in a way only an unhinged man would. His beanie sat crookedly on his head and his coat was in tatters. Tommy wanted to run, but his legs were frozen. He needed to stay put. He needed to flee._

_There was a stab wound in the center of the man’s chest. It wasn’t visible through the shirt, but he knew it was there._

_“Hello, TommyInnit,” the strange man rasped, and laughed._

Tommy woke up with the laughter in his ears and panic in his chest. The details faded as soon as he opened his eyes, but the fear remained. Dream was not there- He said he would be busy, his brain quickly provided, so he wasn’t surprised. 

But he wished he was there. He was scared, even though he didn’t remember why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, look! Tommy content!
> 
> And Badboyhalo content. I hope you didn't think I'd just let the bloodvines take over his mind to the degree he would think less of _Skeppy_ without some sort of fight. ^-^;;
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter!
> 
> Which definitely wasn't written and posted late on the 26th because I had free time and inspiration. I do not know what you mean. I do not post twice in one day /s


	12. Discussion and Resistance

_Dream: i can’t say I heard of him definitively having a child_

_Dream: but i also can’t claim he *never* had one_

_Dream: why?_

Of course, Dream had a pretty good idea as to why Quackity would be asking that type of question. He had his hands in everything, _especially_ the going-on in Manburg, when it was still Manburg. There were all sorts of rumors going around about people being related to other people, ranging from the reasonable to the ridiculous. Like Fundy’s real mother being Niki -reasonable to a point, although completely and utterly false- and George and Quackity being secret... Brothers? Cousins? Uncle and nephew? Father and son? That last one was always wild because they were roughly the same age, and no one could agree on who the father of the pair _was_. So family rumors tended to spiral out of control, especially when it came to Manburg-era figures. 

However, despite most rumours being completely basis, Dream didn’t think Quackity had clung to some hare-brained rumor months after his ex-husband had died. Quackity was crazy, weird, and unreasonable. But he wasn’t a _conspiracy theorist._ There had to be a reason why. Something must have happened. 

_Quackity: i already said! there’s no real REASON_

_Quackity: i was just thinking you know?_

_Dream: thinking about whether or not your ex-fiance had a child or not?_

_Quackity: husband. We were never officially engaged, but we were engaged for years, lived together, looked after fundy and tubbo together, and were living as married anyway_

_Quackity: besides we almost had a child together_

_Dream: almost? Mexican l’manburg did exist for a while_

_Quackity: shut the HELL up, DREAM_

_Dream: what?_

No amount of questioning would make Quackity respond. Fair enough, Dream supposed. It was weird, but what part of him wasn’t? If he decided he didn’t want help with whether or not Schlatt’s kid existed, Dream would not waste time and energy to try to help him.

He had Blue to gather.

* * *

Whatever the Egg had done to Bad was worse this time. Skeppy could tell from how he moved, how he talked, from the _sword_... He acted almost like the version of Badboyhalo that he met so many years ago, so many he couldn’t even remember, back in the Nether. The demon that swore and relished in the shedding of blood like it was a cup of coffee in the morning.

Dangerous, kind, and ruthless all in one... But far more so. 

It made Skeppy nervous, that more than a hundred years had passed since that version of Bad was the only one he knew, since that was what Bad’s personality was like at all. But suddenly, all those mannerisms and actions rose again, from a little prodding by the Egg. Because of _course_ it was its fault.

He had encouraged Bad to go on a walk with him, after Dream had left, and they walked side-by-side through the Badlands. It was eerily silent, as Bad walked slightly ahead of him, moving with a cold, calculated confidence that was as admirable as it was worrying. Bad had made himself less scary over the years, in order to talk with people better- always still _him_ , but censored in specific ways. But this Bad did not seem to care about how he was perceived at all. 

It was like meeting an old stranger again.

But finally, the silence took its toll on Skeppy. He could not keep walking and suffocate himself with his partner’s lack of response. There was nothing staying silent would do for them. No matter how “safe” it felt. 

“I love you, Badboyhalo.” 

It was a safe beginning. Bad’s response would be enough to gauge what he should do next. Safe as well, because it was nothing Bad did not already know. The sentence was hardly uncommon between them.

Bad, or Egg-Bad, or not-Bad, or whatever he should be called... Stopped. Did not turn around, but still froze, as if the words hit him out of nowhere. Skeppy walked up beside him and turned, so he could see his partner’s face.

It was conflicted, stricken, hesitant. Not a good sign, when it came to the Egg. Which he knew he shouldn’t be jealous of, but envy still pricked at his heart. 

“I...” Bad began, and Skeppy _worried_ . He sounded like he would cry, like the single word was a struggle, like he did not know if he _should_ answer. And the pain stabbed his heart like a barbed knife.

“I do love you, Skeppy,” Bad finally said. “I- I will always love you. I’m- I’m sorry that I’ve been acting... Different, lately. The Egg is important, you know? It takes up a lot of my attention, because it can’t do anything on its own. That doesn’t mean I don’t love _you_.”

Wow.

“Are you seriously giving me the ‘new child’ talk right now?!” Skeppy laughed, incredulous. 

Something was still wrong, but it seemed to improve. Bad said he loved him. That was important, as a step one. If he could not do that... It would be all over. So even something wrong was better than a completely unsalvageable situation. 

Bad laughed as well, and some of the clarity returned to his eyes. _Good_. “I mean, it fits, doesn’t it? I know you’re jealous of the Egg sometimes, and that’s okay! But I just want you to know that you don’t have to be. It has no control over me, it’s just a beautiful Egg that I like to help. You’re my battery- My husband, I mean. I... Care about you.”

Skeppy’s hopes had risen. But the word, the word _battery-_ It killed all those hopes before he could even begin to name them.

Perhaps they were not making as much progress as he had originally thought.

* * *

Tommy, all alone in his room with absolutely nothing to do and an entire body full of pain, let himself drift back to sleep, Dream’s hoodie pulled even tighter around him. It would protect him, he hoped from the nightmares. Or even prevent them altogether.

From the second he drifted off, Tommy _dreamed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, if anyone gets inspiration to write something inspired or based off of this, feel free to! Just ofc say where the inspo is from
> 
> But feel free to write things, or draw things, if you'd like to! ^-^ If not, that's of course perfectly fine- just want to let everyone know I'm totally okay with fics based off or inspired by my fic, in case anyone was considering making something


	13. Arguments and Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Very small use of zalgo text, in just two sentences, during Tommy's dream sequence.

Nothing snapped Bad out of his haze faster than the _heartbreak_ on Skeppy’s face. He had messed up, big time. If he did not do something fast... They would be broken forever.

He had to fix it.

* * *

Battery. A battery. A _battery._ The word rang in Skeppy’s mind like a curse as he desperately struggled to get through the day. Living turned into a series of tasks that he followed just to stay sane: Go home. Make potions for Tommy. Check on Tommy (still sleeping). Text Dream (Quackity had been acting weird, he didn’t know how to process it, agreed with Skeppy that he should let it go until something like that happened again). Avoid Bad. Go mining. Avoid Bad. Talk to Captain Puffy. Avoid Bad. Make dinner. Avoid Bad. Add a bed to the spare bedroom. Eat dinner, away from Bad. Make sure Tommy ate (he did, then fell right back to sleep after being reassured that Dream would be there the second he woke up the next morning). Go to sleep (in the spare bedroom, instead of sharing with Bad). 

Bad had tried to chase him down and force him to talk the entire day previous, from the moment _battery_ fell out of his fucking mouth. Apologies, half-hearted explanations, pleads... All sorts of meaningless words poured out while he chased Skeppy like a dejected puppy. But he ignored and avoided him no matter what. He loved Bad, he did, and would love him even if Bad left and never wanted anything to do with him ever again. But he needed his space.

Of course, Bad was notoriously terrible at giving him his space.

Which was why he wasn’t entirely surprised when he woke up. Instead of being in the spare bedroom alone, as he should have been, there was a man at the foot of the bed, glaring. Specifically _his_ man, eyes narrowed and face set in an expression that had so much _stubborn_ underneath it left no doubt that Skeppy could not escape so easily again. On the one hand, he understood. Bad hated being ignored. But on the other, he needed his time.

“Good morning, Bad,” he sighed, head already slamming right back into the pillow. There was no use in getting out of bed today.

Clearly, Bad did not approve of that answer, because the hands planted on his hips moved and crossed over his chest, in that pouty way he often did when Skeppy was not giving him his way. It usually made Skeppy weak to see it, ready to do what he wanted to just make him stop being sad. But, thankfully, Skeppy did not _need_ to see it.

He closed his eyes.

“Geppy! Gah! You’re being- You’re being a muffin, I hope you know that!”

“I know.” Skeppy did not open eyes. “Can you please get out of my room, Bad?”

“Skeppy, we have been married for- We can’t just go back to sleeping in different rooms every time we’re upset with each other! This is immature!”

“Oh, so now you’re blaming _me_.”

“I’m not blaming yo-”

“Last time I checked, I asked you to give me space, and you kept chasing me around. I meant it when I said I needed space, Bad. That hurt my feelings, and I need some space.” He yawned and rolled over. He wondered what expression Bad was making right then, but didn’t look. “If you can’t respect that, then that’s your problem. It’s not immature to ask you for space to process.”

“Well, no, but-”

“But nothing.” He was too numb to feel hurt by the situation, Skeppy felt. There was no use in anger when he could just sit in numbness. He didn’t need to feel anything at all, just wait for Bad to go away. He would, eventually.

But then, Bad spoke.

“I- Skeppy, I wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have said that about you. I didn’t mean to say it out loud,” Bad said, all sorry and gentle, like his words weren’t a _thousand arrows_ in his chest.

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t mean it,” Skeppy said. “It just means you didn’t mean to _say it out loud_ .” He wasn’t too numb for _that_ kind of hurt, apparently. Even if all this _was_ just the Egg. “How long have you felt that way?”

He didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t _dare_ open them, or roll over, or do anything that would risk him seeing Bad’s face. Because if he did, he would break. He would break and it would be all over. It was barely even proper morning yet, he did not need to be bawling like a heartbroken teenager. 

This had been coming for a while. It was fine.

“I- Skeppy, I- I _don’t_ feel that way,” Bad protested. Skeppy could hear the distress in his voice. “It’s- It’s not a _bad descriptor_ of what you are to me, but I don’t see you as _just_ a battery. I _love_ you!”

“It’s not a bad descriptor, huh. So you really want to say you don’t feel that way, while _telling me_ you feel that way?”

Skeppy sat up, back pointedly to Bad, a special kind of anger in his chest. He wanted to blow something up. He wanted to _destroy_ something. He wanted to find something Bad _loved_ and blow it to smithereens. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. But he _wanted_. 

“No! No! No, that’s not what I meant at all,: Bad tried to correct, but Skeppy was far from ready to listen.

“Get out, Bad.”

“Skeppy-”

“I said get _out,_ Bad. Or I’m _moving_ out. And taking Tommy with me.”

A gasp rang out behind him, but he did not flinch. His gaze stayed boring into the quartz wall with an angry determination. He said what he said.

“Skeppy, you _wouldn’t_.”

“Oh, like I thought you wouldn’t? Like how you spent a week in a different home with Dream when he was thirteen? Like how I thought _surely you wouldn’t leave me_ , but you stormed off and _left_ , because as long as your battery was _alive_ you didn’t _care_ about me?”

“Hey! Wait- No, that’s not what- Skeppy!”

“I just think it’s real funny, Bad, that you can do whatever you want to _me_ , but I can’t do anything to _you_ .” He was reverting, he knew it. All these words were the ammunition of a younger Skeppy who hadn’t found a better balance in his relationship yet. Who thought a healthy amount of resentment in a relationship was a _thing_. He knew it was wrong to lash out.

But he did it anyway.

“Skeppy, just look at me! Please! You avoided me all yesterday-”

“Yeah, because I asked you to _give me space_.”

He stood, but did not turn around.

“Okay, yeah, I shouldn’t have followed you around yesterday,” Bad said, “that was pretty rude of me. But I just didn’t want to lose you! I’ve been really scared of losing you lately.”

“And you think _I_ haven’t been scared of losing _you_ ?” He couldn’t help but snap, the fire burning in his blood was going to overtake him if he did not vent a little of the heat out. He was so angry. How come, no matter what, _Bad_ was always the victim?! “You hang around the Egg all the time. You hang around Captain Puffy all the time. You-”

“I’m allowed to have _friends_ , Skeppy!”

“The Egg isn’t your friend!” he screamed. And finally, _finally_ , he turned around to face Bad. Bad, whose eyes were open with hurt and shock and a mixture of other complicated emotions he couldn’t bother to feel guilty about it. He hurt too much.

“Skeppy, you don’t mean that,” Bad said, softly.

“I do. I do mean that,” Skeppy said. “Dream and I are both scared the vines will hurt Tommy. Do you want that? For them to use him as some sort of sacrifice? For them to take him away, or mess with his mind until he isn’t even Tommy anymore? Is that what you want? Was the amnesia not bad enough?!”

“Skeppy! That’s enough!”

It wasn’t enough. Skeppy took a step forward, forcing himself into calm.

“Swear to me that the vines will stay away from Tommy, and I’ll stay, and keep Tommy here. But if you don’t, or won’t, I’ll take Tommy and leave. And I’ll stay away, Bad. You _threatened me_ yesterday, it’s too dangerous to live here. I’ll stay away until the Egg is destroyed, and I’ll keep Tommy with me, because I can’t afford anything happening to him. Promise me, Bad. Or I’ll leave.”

Silence hung in the air for a long moment. Too long a moment. Tears welled in Bad’s eyes, and Skeppy wanted to apologize. He wanted to make it better. But he couldn’t. Tommy came first. He had to come first.

“You really think I’ll hurt you?” Bad whispered, pain in his voice. “Hurt Tommy?”

“While you’re around the Egg?” Skeppy asked. “Yeah. Yeah, I think you would. I think that you would have stabbed me yesterday, if Dream hadn’t been there. I think this has been coming for a long time, you choosing everything else over me. I think that the Egg has- Has consumed you, and you aren’t even really _Bad_ anymore. I don’t even know if you can _be_ Bad, anymore, or if it’s just an act.”

A tear started its trek down Bad’s left cheek. Skeppy wanted to wipe it away, but his hands stayed still. He couldn’t, that wasn’t his place right then. No matter how much he wanted to comfort his partner.

“I- Give me a chance to prove that I’m- That I really _am_ Badboyhalo,” he replied, voice shaking. “I- Please, Skeppy, I don’t want to _lose_ you. You’re- You’re the light of my life! I can’t- I can’t imagine doing this without you.”

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t. This was a stupid idea. Bad would just go back to the Egg, and everything would get worse from there. Skeppy should not, under any circumstances, pursue the only hope he had for Bad to be saved. It was too dangerous.

But _God,_ Bad made him weak.

“Three days,” he said, voice stained as he bit back emotion. “Don’t visit the Egg for three days, Bad. In those three days, _prove_ to me you’re the man I married. But you can’t neglect Tommy, either. It was your idea to have him under our care, remember that.”

For a moment, Skeppy thought bad would refuse his demand. Say not seeing the Egg was an unreasonable demand. Ask if he was crazy, tell him to, actually, take Tommy and leave. But he didn’t. He didn’t at all. Instead, he rushed forward into Skeppy’s arms, pulling him into a hug that he, so reluctantly, returned.

“Okay. If it means that I won’t lose you, then okay. The Egg can do without company for a few days, if that’s what you want.”

* * *

_Tommy dreamed._

_He was on a bench. A sturdy wooden seat beside a tree, on the edge of what looked to be a mountain that stood miles above the clouds. Far below was some sort of city, surrounded by black fog that must have choked its citizens. Stones sat in his stomach as he looked below. This was wrong. Something was wrong._

_“T̸̡̡̛͇̞͗͂͗̅̔̊͗̂͛̃̚ŏ̸̢̠̾̀͐͒̓̾̓̓̚̕ṁ̸̼̩̮̬̱̗̹͚͑̒m̷̤̼͎͍͖̗͖͕̟͚͔̻̺͋̾̄͒͋̈̔̈́̅̅͝͝͝y̷̥̥̱̠̳̦̮͖̓̉͐̐͛?̴̤͕̰̙̭͗͊̇̾̈̀͑͊͑̈̌͘̚͝”_

_He whipped to his right, and there was a boy sitting there. Except it wasn’t a normal boy, even though he was certain it should be. His face was gone. Not blank, but_ **_gone_ ** _. The void stared back at him as he looked, eyes wide and breath shallow at the person beside him. Friend? Foe? Stranger? He didn’t know._

 _All he knew was that he was_ **_scared_ ** _._

_“I̶̛͓̝͔͔̪͙̖͇̲͚̍̈́̈́͐̊͊͒̚̕̚͝͝͠ţ̸̧̢̰̩͍̪̊'̸̨̧̱̟̥̳͓͈͍̞̞̫̘͔̘̈̈́̓́̀̑͒̓̈́̀̓͐̃̈́͘s̴̡̢̥͚͇̣̗̻̺̬̭͙͈̝̑̑̆̄͂̋̇̽̂͛̅͑̚͝ y̵̯͍͙͇̤̱̹̹͑̏̓̃̈́̇͗̈́͛͂̊̀͘o̷̢̺̜͇̣̲͋͛̎̆̚͝ư̶̞̻̞͜r̸̨̛͔̳̬̺͙̳̽͛̅̽͐̎̕ f̴̡̡̻͇̗͚͉̺͎͙̻͙͔͆͋͐̃͠͝a̶̝̘͔̤̠͚̺̳̘̫̰͉̼̾͆̋͊̔̈́̔̆͒͌̉͝ṳ̷̿͆̓̌̏́̀̂̓͗͝l̶͉̩̲̘̭̲̲̼̲̥̀͗͛̅t̵͖̠̖͚̘͎̤̣̫̺̉́̒̉͐͊͘̚͝,̸̛̫̰̼̦̫͕͙̙̼̪̦̐͑̄,Ţ̷̗̳̟̰̿̄̈͗͒̽̿o̷̖̳̺̗̖͕̫̳̽̌̌́͆̾̌̑̿͝m̷̛͇̟͈̓̾̊̓̾̂̄̇́̄͊͝m̴̡̨̡͔̺̗̮͕͚͈̹̪̘̱̣̋̇͗̈́̈́̿́͌̂̋̎͋̿͠y̶̳̞̬͋͂̐̉̇̏.̶̢̫͓̗͍̹̤͈͉̘̰̗̎̚“ the boy-void hissed, one hand reaching out. Fear consumed him, but he was frozen. There was no escape._

_But nothing happened. Without warning, the scene changed, and Tommy turned to find himself not sitting on a bench of doom, but standing in a forest of serenity._

_Trees surrounded him on all sides, their green a comfort that easily distracted from his previous fear. Birds of all kinds sang in the trees and he started to walk forward by no power of his own. Step. Step. Step. His legs moved on his own and he let them, not scared at all by the strange happenings._

_The oak forest surrounding him was vaguely familiar, like he had seen it in the memory of a dream, once. Overgrown in a beautiful way, all signs of civilization hidden by trees and vines. Even the ocean, which he could hear from his left side, was hidden by the trees._

_Finally, Tommy found himself at the end of the impossibly long walk. There was a structure hidden amongst the trees, covered in vegetation that seemed far more welcoming than dangerous. There were barrels wrapped, a log wall around them, and the remains of a house in the corner of the structure, all of which were wrapped in bright green vines and shaded by the leaves of the trees._

_In the center of the walled structure, there It sat. surrounded by gold blocks, a gold bell beside it, was The Log._

_“Prime Log. If Log, Prime,” read the sign._

_The Prime Log: A holy artifact connected to the Church of Prime._

_He reached out and touched the bell. Its beautiful song rang out amongst the trees, and he could not help but smile._

When Tommy awoke, the pain in his head was almost completely gone. The ringing of a bell still echoed in his mind, and it filled him with a joyous type of calm that made him want to giggle. For the first time in the few days he could remember, he felt _good_. And also for the first time, he remembered a dream he had. Even as he sat up and looked around, he could conjure up the image of that peaceful wood and the shrine for the log and bell. The words on the sign and the details were fuzzy, but he could remember the log, the bell, the trees, with perfect clarity.

Of course, any dreams of scary void-friends were quickly forgotten. Not needed.

Slowly, Tommy sat up, and found that Skeppy’s reassurances the night before were right: Dream was sitting at the end of the bed, reading a book. It was weird that he could read with the mask on, because it didn’t have any eye holes, but that was fine. He had already figured out that Dream worked a little _weird_. 

“Hey Dream,” he greeted, but quiet, so as not to startle him.

Thankfully, his efforts paid off. The book snapped shut, but the man did not jump or look startled at all. He looked over and Tommy could have sworn that he _knew_ Dream was smiling, despite not seeing his face. But then again, Dream worked weird.

“Hello Tommy. Did you have a good dream?”

“Yeah, actually!” Tommy said, enthusiastic. “It was really nice. I was in this- I was in this overgrown forest, and in this- in this ring of gold blocks was a log. But it was a special log, with a bell on, and the bell was really pretty, sound-wise. It was like, like a friend bell. The forest was really welcoming, too. It felt like home.”

“Oh, I see. That’s good,” Dream said. “It hasn’t been too long, and you’re already having dreams that relate to things you used to know about. That’s good. Maybe you’ll recover soon, then.”

“Oh, so I know that place?” Tommy asked, enthusiastic. He leaned forward, eager for every word. “Where is it? What’s it like?”

“Well... I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the _place_. But the Prime Log is from an oak forest, and kept in your home. Well, the home we had, after your... After you were no longer a L’Manburg citizen.”

Dream, in the two times they’d mentioned the exile, always tried to talk about it gently. Not overwhelm Tommy too much about it. He was grateful. It was weird to find out about a kingdom the same time he found out he wasn’t welcome there, but still feel such _grief_ over it.

“So it’s a real thing we have at home?” he asked. “Can I see it?”

“Uh...” 

Tommy frowned. He didn’t need memories to know that _uh..._ in Dream-speak meant _no_. 

“No, no, there’s no need to pout, Tommy. We are going to go home when you feel well enough to travel. But I just don’t think you’re ready to make that trip yet. You haven’t been able to stand up on your own yet and, even if you were, we have no guarantee that you could do that consistently, or long-term. The last thing I want is to rush things and make things worse,” Dream explained.

It was reasonable. And, frankly, expected. Every time they spoke, Dream was worrying about him, even if he wasn't blatantly showing it. He was like what Tommy imagined a worrying big brother would be like. So, of course, he said so.

“Hey, Dream, you’re kind of like a big brother. A real worrywart one, though. It’s not a bad thing! I think you’re doing a good job of being a worrying big brother. It’s just, y’know, a thing. A good thing.”

At some point during his ramble, Dream had frozen.

“Um...”

Thankfully, neither of them got the chance to really deepen that discussion, because there was indistinguishable yelling from the room next door. Skeppy had told him that room was the spare bedroom, for guests and such. Tommy didn’t know why they would be screaming in there, but they sure were doing that.

Dream, for his part, sighed deeply.

“I’m sorry, Tommy. They really have gotten better about arguing. They usually aren’t this bad, I promise.”

“It’s not that bad-” Tommy began to assure, but then he heard the other guy, the one he hadn’t officially met yet, yell through the wall.

“I’m allowed to have _friends_ , Skeppy!”

“The Egg isn’t your friend!”

“I’m going to sound-proof your room,” Dream decided. “Or that room, depending.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit of a long one, but I hope it's worth it! It was very fun to write. ^-^ Feel free to leave a comment telling me what you thought down below!


	14. Taking Time to Process

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL
> 
> Have you seen how much feedback and attention this fic has gotten??? WOW! Holy shit, y'all- We hit 150 subscribers today! 
> 
> My previous record was _**fourteen**_
> 
> Seriously guys, thank y'all so much, I really appreciate all the comments and support

Trapped in his own mind, Dream tried to think logically.

Logically, Dream knew that this was a regression caused by the influence of the Egg that had its hold in Badboyhalo. Logically, he knew that he was in his mid-20s, developmentally, and a mature chaos avatar and god, and that he was not thirteen again, listening to his parents scream in the next room as Bad said, over and over, that he was taking Dream away for a week so Skeppy would learn to “behave”. Logically, he knew that, after that incident, they never involved him in their moving-out-moving-in pendulum ever again, and did their best to change as much as they could about their behavior to make things like that stop happening. Logically, he knew that this was a different situation and there was no need to feel sad or scared, because he was a grown ass man and not a scared little kid that needed reassurance.

He was still hugging his knees when the screaming died down.

“Hey...” Tommy’s voice was soft, far more concerned and careful than Dream had ever heard it before, and somehow, that made him want to cry. 

It was stupid. It was stupid. It was  _ stupid _ ! He was the god of the  _ Dream _ SMP, it even had his name! He was raised by two powerful people and had carved a name for himself in the stone of history. People feared him, respected him,  _ needed _ him. He had been shaky and irrational enough since Tommy’s accident. This? This was too much. He couldn’t start crying because Bad and Skeppy were yelling. Yelling was what they  _ did _ . He had to focus. He had to be mature. He had to be serious. He had to be strong. 

If not for himself, then for Tommy.

“Hey,” Tommy said again, as he leaned forward, hand feather-light on his shoulder. The screaming had stopped, but it still rang in his ears. “Dream, are you okay?”

“I-” Tears choked his voice and it felt like a  _ lie _ when he said, “Yeah, Tommy. I’m just fine.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

* * *

Tommy knew that there was nothing in the world that would make him judge Dream for crying. Dream, who worried about him from the moment he woke up, who always made sure he was fed, who answered his questions and let him make his own choices about who should visit, even when Dream clearly had strong opinions of his own. Dream who clearly loved his parents more than anything, even though he called them by their names and rarely initiated affection. Dream who felt more  _ safe _ than anything he could remember. Dream who was the first person he remembered and was the first person to try to make him feel safe.

No matter what, he would not judge Dream for the shocked voice and the way he hugged his knees, seeming almost like a child even as the fighting had finally disappeared. He hadn’t had memories long enough to actually form a basis of judgement, anyway.

Shakily, Dream took in a breath, mask pointed at the ceiling. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “They- They have been... Good, for  _ years _ . They used to have a very rocky relationship when I was young, but things have improved drastically. They haven’t fought like this since I was a young teenager. The worst was when I was around, uh... Thirteen? Fourteen? So it doesn’t make sense that I would...”

“So basically the yelling scared you?” Tommy asked, and winched at Dream’s answering flinch. That wasn’t what he meant to do. “It’s- It’s fine if it did, you know. It scared me a bit, too, you know. It’s fine that it upset you; there’s no judgement here, big man.”

He was repeating himself, he knew that, but he wanted to make  _ sure _ Dream knew it was fine.

“I- I’m not- He’s  _ Bad _ ,” Dream said, with an incredulous laugh. “He’s the guy that found me when I was a dumb little kid in the middle of a field. He’s the one that taught me about the world, about the  _ Nether _ ... I  _ grew up _ on his stories about the Blaze, and the different kinds of demons. He- When I met Sapnap, my best- My former- My first ever best friend, Bad was the one to sit with me and listen as I talked all about him, and teach me how to play nice, so I didn’t- So I didn’t chase him away. He... Fuck, Tommy, he’s my  _ Dad _ . I shouldn’t be scared of him! He’s- But he... He isn’t himself, lately, and he’s a lot like how he was during one of the... Rough patches when I was a kid. He and Skeppy were fighting a lot at the time, and I- Shit, I’m- I can’t be scared of him,” he laughed. “That’s  _ crazy _ .”

“I don’t think it’s crazy, man,” Tommy countered with a vigorous shake of his head. “Listen. You haven’t told me much, but it sounds like they used to yell a lot when you were a kid. That shit- That shit can be scary, okay? Yelling... I am pretty sure I’d react the same way if certain people yelled at  _ me _ , for some reason. I’m just, oddly sure of that. You don’t- You don’t have to feel bad about being scared of him. You don’t really think he’ll hurt you, right?”

“No,” Dream answered easily, finally less hunched than before. “I don’t- I don’t think he would  _ ever _ lay a hand on me. Or you, for that matter. It’s just... Silly kid things. And I... I guess you’re right, there’s nothing- There’s nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t make Bad a bad  _ person _ .”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. “Exactly. I can’t exactly give better advice than that, but... Dream, I’m not ever gonna laugh at you for being upset, okay? You’ve been here for me even though life has gone to  _ shit _ . I’m not going to laugh at you for shit being too much.”

That  _ significantly _ surprised Dream, Tommy noticed.  _ Way more _ than it should have surprised him, actually, and guilt rang in his mind. Was he a jerk, before? Was that why Dream was so shocked he wasn’t going to laugh at him?

“Listen, Dream, I-”

“No, no, listen,” Dream countered, somehow guessing his worry, “it isn’t you. It’s just... Been a while. I don’t talk about family much, so I’m not used to that.”

“Oh.” Tommy laughed, felt the relief in his shoulders. “Oh good. I was worried I turned out to be some major asshole before I lost my memories, and that’s why you were so confused.”

“No, no. You were never an  _ asshole _ , Tommy,” Dream assured, with a shake of his head. “Rambunctious, definitely. You didn’t really know boundaries, but I can’t really demonize you for that. You’re a kid and, besides,  _ I’m _ shit with boundaries. When I was younger, I would just... Take things from people. Because I could. I didn’t even see what was  _ wrong _ with it until someone took something from George -uh... another old friend of mine- and I lost my shit. Trust me, if boundaries and some light arson is your only problem, you’re hardly  _ evil _ . You just... Need some guidance.”

“Wait, you used to  _ steal _ things?” Tommy laughed, leaning forward with interest. His eyes sparkled, eager for every detail. “ _ Really?! _ ”

“What about it?”

“No, no, no, no, no. You just- I didn’t take you for the type. Did you ever steal anything cool?”

“Well, when I was sixteen, Sapnap and I...” 

* * *

Quackity was doing fine. Quackity was doing  _ just fine _ , thank you for asking. The whole locking-himself-in-his-attic-and-having-a-break-down thing?  _ Just fiiiiine _ . The thinking he might technically have a step-son that he didn’t know he had until technically he wasn’t his step-son anymore? Just fiiiine. The whole thing with his- With his own child that he wasn’t going to think about, not today, he didn’t need to cry today? Also fine!

In short, everything was  _ fine _ . Everything was  _ great _ . 

The first ever ~~Manburg~~ L’Manburg Cabinet Lunch went well, to his surprise. Fundy’s voice was still hoarse, but he managed a few sentences, and ate some things soothing to his throat. Meanwhile, Quackity managed to talk with Tubbo about their plans to build a new house for Tommy, given that his, well... His didn’t exactly  _ belong _ to him anymore. They even managed to stay light on the subject matter.

But then Tubbo, without even thinking, without even  _ noticing _ , called him  _ Dad _ when they said goodbye. 

And oh, Quackity was just chilling. Just chilling in his attic, screaming, no worries. There was no crisis to be seen. Just some twenty-one-year-old dipshit in a suit, screaming in his attic. Over a kid calling him Dad. Who probably wasn’t the kid of his ex-husband, but he had no _proof_ of that . 

It wasn’t like Schlatt ever mentioned having had a kid. Not really. But when he told Schlatt he was pregnant, after leaving... The range of expressions on his face, before he ended up laughing and yelling like usual, left a lot to be inferred. Not to mention the mumble of  _ not again _ under his breath. 

Which he wasn’t going to think about, because  _ Tubbo wasn’t Schlatt’s kid _ .

Not  _ Tubbo _ . Not the  _ pacifist bee boy _ . Not the kid that  _ always _ seemed to know when things with Schlatt were going to go south, and give him a Look, waiting for advice on what to do. Not the kid who he truly thought, before Tommy, would never ever ever harm anyone he loved. He couldn’t. He couldn’t be the Vice President to  _ another Schlatt _ in Manburg! He couldn’t do it.

Well... L’Manburg. Definitely L’Manburg. Of course. Obviously. Not Manburg. Why would it be Manburg?

Finally, his screaming died down and Quackity leaned against the cool wood of his attic wall. He closed his eyes slowly, and just let himself process. This was something he could handle. This was something he could overcome. He didn’t need anyone else. He  _ could _ do this alone.

But still... He wished Mama Q was still alive. She would probably have had great advice for him. Probably would have lectured the hell out of him if she learned that Schlatt turned into what he was and he still  _ stayed _ , despite the pain and everything bad happening. Would have ripped him a new one. But she would have  _ been there _ , support for when he needed it.

But now he was alone, with no one to turn to, not even a shitty husband who only cared some of the time. Sapnap and Karl were great, George was great... But he didn’t feel like he could dump this kind of heavy shit on them. And he sure as hell couldn’t talk about  _ Tubbo _ with them.

So he sat there, alone, until he was too sick of sitting in his attic and decided to go back to work, even though Tubbo gave him the day off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dream... I really just kinda wanted to put some of how people who grew up with arguing guardians can feel onto him, since he's the Skephalo kid. I'm sorry, my poor chaos god, for the pain I have put you through...
> 
> Everyone else, though? Angst is content baybeeee /j


	15. Simps, Spooks, and Stories

Hours after the talk ~~terrible argument~~ with Skeppy, Badboyhalo suddenly realized a number of things. One, he had sworn not to _go **near** the Egg at all, for Three Days _ . That was ridiculous! The Egg was used to him visiting every day! He was _supposed_ to visit _every day!_ Skeppy couldn’t ask that from him, what was he thinking? He needed to ~~listen to skeppy!~~ visit the egg _right away!_ ~~no he didn’t no he didn’t no he didn’t- think of skeppy think of _ **SKEPPY**_~~. The urge was strong. ~~too strong.~~

He had been trying to collect some sand, before the desperate _need_ to see ~~appease~~ the Egg hit him. ~~skeppy liked sand~~ But it suddenly seemed so silly. Why would Bad collect a bunch of a useless ~~precious~~ block simply because _Skeppy_ wanted it? If he wanted to be mad, he would be mad, and it was up to him calm down. Hadn't years of experience had proved that? ~~no wait that only applies if~~ ~~_skeppy_ ~~ ~~was in the wrong!!~~ There was no need to make things up to him. ~~yes there was! there~~ ~~_really_ ~~ ~~was!~~

Bad moved to put away his shovel when the chat window popped up and caught his attention.

_ <Skeppy whispered to Badboyhalo.> _

_Skeppy: hey bad_

~~heyyyy skeppyyyyyyy!! 🎔~~

_Skeppy: i jset wanted to say_

_Skeppy: i wanst wrong about the tommy thign_

_Skeppy: but i know bringing up the dream thing was crossing the line_

_Skeppy: it wasnt okay for me to bring that up like that was rexcent or like you handt tried to change_

_Skeppy: so i just_

_Skeppy: wanted to say sry_

_Skeppy: okay?_

Bad stopped in his tracks and grabbed the shovel again, guilt instantly rising within him. He shouldn’t- Skeppy shouldn’t have been the one apologizing, right? He had- He had treated his partner, the platonic love of his life, like less than a person! Even- Even without the Egg stuff, that wasn’t okay. But here Skeppy was, apologizing before _he_ did, because Bad was a coward, and Skeppy was doing everything in his power to make things work.

He didn’t think he could go three days, but he wouldn’t visit the Egg _that_ day. For Skeppy. At the very least, to show him the same respect.

_Badboyhalo: hey Skeppy! <3 _

_Badboyhalo: please don’t worry about it ):_

_Badboyhalo: you were upset and it was kind of a similar situation! you were trying to make a point and i was being a muffin about it_

_Badboyhalo: you don’t have to feel bad about it, i promise :)_

He restarted his work with gathering sand (very much still an apology but also, who knew when Skeppy might need it, his desire for sand both unpredictable and unknowable), but quickly stopped again. There had been too much that had been left unsaid. Bad was being a coward. He was. But Skeppy... Skeppy didn’t deserve that. He needed to say something soon before Skeppy got hurt even worse ~~and before his clear mind faded away once more~~.

_Badboyhalo: Actually... Skeppy, I owe *you* an apology_

_Badboyhalo: I said a lot of mean things to you_

_Badboyhalo: not only yesterday, but a lot recently_

_Badboyhalo: i called you a battery, i said that i would be a good parent to tommy but maybe you should stay away from him, i insulted your decorating skills..._

_Badboyhalo: Skeppy, I’ve been a real muffin the past couple months and I shouldn’t have_

_Badboyhalo: So... I’m sorry_

Good. ~~good.~~ That was good. He apologized. Even if Skeppy didn’t forgive him, he'd taken a step in the right direction. He’d remembered how not to be a coward.

~~but this wouldn’t last, would it?~~

The reply was almost immediate.

_Skeppy: bad u don’t haf to apologise_

_Skeppy: listen i appreciate it and i forgive you but_

_Skeppy: bad litsen i know you havent felt urself lately and i know that this has been a lot_

_Skeppy: i haven’t exactly been the nicest to you either_

What? He wasn’t- He wasn’t serious, right? They were nowhere near the same levels of mean! Skeppy shouldn’t have to deflect Bad’s apology with his own. ~~he shouldn’t even have to~~ ~~_apologize._ ~~

_Badboyhalo: Skeppy!!_

_Badboyhalo: no! >:( _

_Badboyhalo: those aren’t anywhere near the same thing, you muffinhead! i was way worse! I should be the one apologizing and not you_

_Badboyhalo: and also don’t worry_

_Badboyhalo: because i love you i’m staying far away from the Egg <3 _

_Skeppy: good_

_Skeppy: thx bad_

_Skeppy: rly_

_Skeppy: i_

_Skeppy: this soudns so dumb but_

_Skeppy: i just_

_Skeppy: i misesd you_

_Skeppy: alot_

_Skeppy: just_

_Skeppy: a lot_

_Skeppy: a LOT_

Now, if that did not just make Bad’s heart _ache_. They lived in the same house! They shared a bed! How could he be so terrible that Skeppy missed him when they interacted every single day? He was there every day and Skeppy still missed him. He was the worst partner in the world!

He put the shovel away again.

_Badboyhalo: hey skeppy_

_Badboyhalo: you know what?_

_Badboyhalo: i really really miss you too_

_Badboyhalo: why don’t we have a date night tonight?_

_Badboyhalo: dream will look after tommy and we can do something fun, just the two of us_

_Badboyhalo: does that sound fun?_

_Skeppy: i_

_Skeppy: yeah that_

_Skeppy: that sounds great bad_

_Skeppy: that sounds_

_Skeppy: that sounds great_

_Skeppy: im gonna_

_Skeppy: i’m gonna thingk about plans for what we could do_

_Skeppy: im gonna blow you away i promise_

_Skeppy: tonite will be the best night sinc e our marriage ok ay_

_Badboyhalo: aww thank you skeppy_

_Badboyhalo: but you don’t have to plan anything! I’ve been really mean and I want to make it up to you ):_

_Badboyhalo: Really, I want to_

_Skeppy: promis?_

_Badboyhalo: I promise <3 _

_Skeppy: okay_

_Skeppy: okay then_

_Skeppy: i’ll wait to see what you have planned_

_Skeppy: we havent_

_Skeppy: we haevnt done this in a while_

_Skeppy: im excited_

_Skeppy: really excited_

_Badboyhalo: me too, skeppy <3 _

_Badboyhalo: i’ll message you the time when i have things set up_

* * *

The most frustrating about Fundy’s life was that, at the end of it all, he had nowhere to turn to. Eret was busy most of the time, as much as she tried, and Phil... Well, Phil... Phil...

Phil wasn’t home most of the time, when Fundy came to visit.

It wasn’t like Phil was avoiding him. Of course not, that would be ridiculous. Why would Phil want to avoid him, except for how he tried to get adopted by someone else, won’t call Wilbur “dad,” keeps fighting with Ghostbur and making him sad, hasn’t forgiven Techno (but not really because of the Withers, actually)... The standard things. 

But other than that, Phil had no reason not to be around him. 

So, obviously, he was just... Busy. Doing other things. With other people. Fishing with him once or twice a month was fine. It really was. It was more than Wilbur ever did for him, and even though Phil wasn’t around, he didn’t dismiss Fundy in the way Wilbur did. So it was an improvement. It really was an improvement. 

Fishing twice a month was better than having no family at all.

So he was fine. Everyone in his life was too young or too busy and he was fine. He would always be fine. He had no one to turn to, but it was fine. It would always be fine. And besides, when Niki got back from her family emergency, he would have Niki back. His dear friend whom he loved dearly. So he was just fine, being alone. He was just fine with Phil being busy sometimes.

Which was what he was trying to convince himself when he visited Phil for the fifth day in a row, starting even before Tommy’s accident, and found it empty. Of course. Of course. He had kept trying to find Phil and tell him about what happened to Tommy, or at least ask for advice, but Phil had been gone for _days_. At least, he came home that night, but then was gone the entire stretch of day, only to return home late at night again.

So literally just gone for the days.

It was fine. It was totally fine. Tommy had no memory and Wilbur’s father didn’t know or, apparently, seem to care, and had told him only to message if it was an emergency. So it was fine. Everything was fine and just peachy and there was nothing for him to be sad about and it was fine. Tommy would totally be fine and there was no need to tell Phil and it was fine.

“Hello, Fundy.”

Or... Or Ghostbur could show up behind him, and call to him in that voice that sounded just on the edge of crying, and try to pretend that nothing was wrong. Or that could happen.

Slowly, Fundy turned around, a sigh escaping his lungs. “Hello, Ghostbur.”

But then he paused. Because Ghostbur looked... Weird. He was mostly normal, but his hair was darker, more brown than grey-ish brown, and he was wearing the Coat. Ghostbur grinned at him, however, and did not seem to notice. Fine. Totally fine.

He had “someone”, he supposed, even if it was his weird ghost dad who was acting even weirder. It was fine. It wasn’t like he had tried to find Phil because he wanted to be _alone_. So it was fine. Completely fine.

“Hello. Fundy,” Wilbur said again. “I was looking for Tommy. Have you seen him?“

Scratch that, he wasn’t fine. He hadn’t tracked Ghostbur down for this conversation for a _reason_. ...Not that he would remember it, anyway.

* * *

Tommy hadn’t been able to sleep since the argument, no matter how tired he was and how much Dream tried to help. They had tried making sure both Bad and Skeppy weren’t nearby, had gotten something to drink and eat, and even, in a last ditch attempt, tried _music_. But nothing was working. At that point, as afternoon drew upon them, Tommy had given up trying to sleep. It was better to try to find entertainment, instead.

“You know,” he told Dream, who had also given up on Tommy getting any sort of rest to assist his recovery until his brain forcibly shut down, “I don’t think you ever properly explained like, who I am and everything. Or how I know you. I don’t really mind, because I’ve been asleep for most of it, but still. That stuff would probably be good to know.”

“Well...” Dream sighed, and leaned back against the wall. “I would really rather you take a nap before dinner, but obviously things were too hectic and that isn’t your fault. But we can cover the basics. What do you know so far? I forgot what we’ve explained already.”

“I mean, I dunno,” Theo mumbled. “Uh, the name’s Tommy, I’m- Huh, I don’t know how old I am, I’m _pretty_ sure I’m a guy, and I live in the Badlands, with you and Skeppy and this guy I haven’t met yet who yells really loudly sometimes. And I used to have friends and now I don’t. That’s about all I’ve got, big man.”

Well. That wasn’t a lot to go off of, now was it. Dream was _exhausted_ , emotionally. Hated that this was a thing that happened, that he helped _cause_ it. He was just... Tired. He hated everything that was going on.”

“Okay,” Dream sighed. “We can’t get through everything that happened in one day, and some of the topics are... Heavy... So I don’t want to dump the entire timeline on you at once,” he cautioned.

“I can handle it,” Tommy said, over-confident. Typical Tommy behavior.

Dream shook his head. He believed that Tommy would try, but he had more than enough proof to believe that Tommy saw his physical and emotional limits just as much as Dream saw other people’s boundaries. As in, he didn’t.

“I’m sure you can, Toms, I’m not doubting that. But I don’t want to chance it. Accidents happen. That’s how we got in this mess, remember? Accidents happen.”

Like the push of a button, Tommy got quiet. Shit. Shit, that wasn’t what he meant. He had to fix it. Be his friend. Friend Dream. Friend Dream who made him feel less like shit. Shit. Had to be quick. Friend Dream that made things better.

“But I can definitely tell you some of it,” he quickly added, lightening his tone. “Why don’t I tell you a story? The story of... The battle of the discs. It was the first thing we really did, once we met.”

Thankfully, that served as suitable distraction, and Dream prepared to tell his tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being posted so late ^-^;;
> 
> Dream's story will be in the next chapter! 
> 
> I'm excited to write their date night! It's been a long time since Bad and Skeppy have had one, with everything that has happened and the Egg getting in the way. (:


	16. For Once, Nothing Went Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2021 everyone! We all survived 2020! Cheers to that!!
> 
> I had... A _f u n_ evening tonight, so writing got pushed late. I'm really sorry that the update came in so late, I have been trying to update earlier in the day.

Dream took in a breath and relaxed against the wall, tilting his head up towards the ceiling in the way he did when he was thinking about what to say. Tommy watched with interest, leaning forward with his arms hanging off his knees. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure _what_ to say. He had just said the earliest event he could think of, to stop Tommy from being upset. To fix it. He was Tommy’s Friend, Dream, and he could fix it.

But now he had to remember what the fuck even happened those years ago. Which was a problem, because he did not exactly _remember_ what happened. Vague strokes, yes, but he mostly remembered the adrenaline rush, and how fun it was playing around and doing a joke “war” with two kids.

If only it had _stayed_ at joke wars...

“Well, this was years ago,” Dream cautioned, before he began. “You entered the lands of the Dream SMP with your friend Tubbo, the one you met before-”

“Wait, the Dream SMP?” Tommy interrupted. “Like, you’re in charge? Or were you named after it?”

Oh, right, he wasn’t told about that yet. That would be good to know.

“It was named after me,” he responded. “I kind of formed and claimed this large stretch of land when I was, uh... I was young, but an adult, at least adult enough. And it was mostly me and Sapnap and George and Alyssa and some other friends for a while. I’m like... I’m the god of this area, essentially. There’s even a church that is technically for me, I think, but people go back and forth on that.”

Shit. That wasn’t a good move. He regretted it as soon as he finished explaining. A turn of his head revealed Tommy, to be _completely_ baffled, blinking as he tried to process what the fuck Dream said. He supposed it would be a lot, for a Tommy that didn’t seem to _absolutely loathe_ authority. ~~Which was useful, could be used.~~ Which was _good_ , because Tommy would likely be happier, along with everyone else, if he wasn’t fighting against anyone with any amount of power. All the time.

“So you’re- _You’re a god and you’re just... What? My friend’s a GOD?!_ ” Tommy sputtered, still very much stuck on the god thing. It was odd, seeing Tommy actually _care_ about that, but also refreshing. No one had freaked out like that in a while.

He had to bite back a chuckle.

“Technically a god, Tommy. _Technically_ a god. I have some god-like abilities and a large area of control, but it’s not like I can just... _Smite_ anyone I want. Honestly, I’m much more powerful based on my mortal abilities than my godly ones.”

“Oh,” Tommy said, quieted by this puzzling bomb that had just been dropped on him. “It’s... It’s cool, though.”

“Yeah,” Dream chuckled, “it’s pretty cool. Gave Dad and Skeppy _hell_ trying to raise me, though.” 

“Oh yeah,” Tommy said, sufficiently distracted with his new thought that Dream was reassured he wouldn’t remember the original topic, “I was wondering. You call the other guy Dad, because he’s your dad, but you don’t call Skeppy dad. Or like... Anything. Skeppy’s his name, right? So why do you call him that? Didn’t he raise you?”

“I...” Shit. “Well, yeah, he is my parent,” Dream said. “He and Bad raised me together. I call Bad by his name a bunch, too, I just also call him Dad sometimes as well. As for Skeppy... Well, it’s kind of complicated. I’ve just never called him by a parental title, and it would be weird to start now.”

“What, like- Like never? Why, though? Did you two not get along? Like, did you just not want him to be your parent.”

Tommy wasn’t trying to be mean. He didn’t know he hit a nerve. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t _know_. 

Dream took in a very careful breath. 

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I- Skeppy is very important to me. Bad’s always been my Dad, but he’s Skeppy, and he’s my parent just as much as Bad is. It’s just, well... Let’s just say there was a bit of argument of what to call Skeppy when Bad found me. He claimed the Dad title, because he found me and he’s a guy, and Skeppy didn’t want to be the “mom” because it didn’t really make him comfortable, which is completely fine. Some people who aren’t women like to be called mom, but Skeppy doesn’t. Unless like... I’m deathly ill or injured, because then I can get away with it. But other than that, it’s completely banned. But no other name really seemed to fit, and Bad refused to have them just both be dad. They kept saying they’d come up with something, but until then I’d call him Skeppy. But they never came up with anything.”

“So you- So they were just arguing about it a lot and never settled on anything,” Tommy said. “Yeah, that makes sense. It seems like they do that a lot.”

Tommy should stop hitting so hard with his statements and observations. It would make existing far more comfortable, actually. He wasn’t supposed to know Dream this well without even _knowing_ him. It was terrible.

Well... Not that terrible. But still.

“Yeah, they do,” Dream sighed. “Yeah... Yeah, they do. But don’t worry, if it’s too much, you can always call me. I’ll help calm them down.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” Tommy assured with a huffed laugh that seemed to instinctually cover the concern Dream could see in his face. “I’ll be fine and I know it can make you nervous, so you don’t have to.”

“No no, it’s fine,” Dream insisted. “I’d rather you got me than just sat in here having to listen to that. It’s a lot worse just sitting and listening than it is actually talking them down. I promise it won’t make me upset.”

His right hand’s fingers, the ones that Tommy couldn’t see, were crossed. Tommy didn’t need to know that.

“Okay,” he agreed, albeit clearly hesitant. “So, anyway, Quackity, right? Why does he hate you so much? He looked like he was about to punch you in the face when he visited. Is he a bad guy? Why would he hate you so much?”

Great. Another heavy topic. Tommy _could not_ handle that discussion yet. But he couldn’t distract him with sudden stories forever. Shit. What should he do?

“That’s- I’m not actually ready to talk about that yet,” Dream said, surprising himself with his honesty. “It’s not something you really knew about before, you were a little bit.. Busy at the time, when it all went down.”

 _Thank god_ Tommy nodded and seemed to accept his explanation.

“So... What _can_ you tell me? My whole life sounds kind of depressing, actually.”

* * *

“Tommy?” Fundy repeated, trying to keep his voice light as he looked at the spirit of his father. He did not do a very good job of it. “Where have you been looking for him?”

Ghostbur’s eyes narrowed with a sharpness that he hadn’t seen since Wilbur was alive. No- No they didn’t, Fundy had to be seeing things. Ghostbur wasn’t Wilbur, he wasn’t. He wasn’t acting like “Alivebur”. He couldn’t be, and Fundy wouldn’t let himself be deluded by his own mind. No.

Before he could even finish convincing himself, Ghostbur beamed, that delightfully dopey smile, and he relaxed. It was fine.

“Oh! Well I looked at him at his house, but then I remembered that wasn’t his house anymore, but then I checked Logsteadshire because I asked Dream and Dream said I could visit there again, and Tommy wasn’t there. A lot of the stuff in his chests was missing, too! It was very odd. So I was wondering where he was, because he wasn’t at his vacation home.”

 _Vacation home._ Of course.

“Tommy is staying somewhere else right now, Ghostbur,” Funday said stiffly. He did not want to have this conversation. He did not want to be having this conversation. _He did not want to be having this conversation._ “Do you know where Phil is? I’ve been looking for him.”

“Oh,” Ghostbur said, and he couldn’t help but feel like he gave a Wrong answer. “Phil’s been with Technoblade! I’ve seen his new house, it’s very nice. I asked Techno why he never visited Phil, you know, and it’s so weird... I don’t remember what he said, but of course it made me sad. He should be able to visit here, you know! Technoblade is a friend.”

A friend to Wilbur, definitely. But he was no friend to Quackity at all. And, at the end of the day, _that_ mattered more than Technoblade’s friendship to Phil or Wilbur. Quackity would never be able to stand him within his country. And his reasonings, even the ones that did not overlap with Fundy’s and Tubbo’s, were understandable enough for neither of them to consider fighting it. 

Technoblade had taken more than he thought he had.

“I... I’m sure Tubbo will consider it,” Fundy lied, weakly. He hated this. He always hated talking to Ghostbur, but especially so about sensitive topics. Ghostbur would never remember, so _he_ always had to be the one to bite his tongue.

Not that he had ever been allowed to speak his mind, ever.

“Good!” Ghostbur grinned. “Good. Do you want to see Technoblade’s house? It’s very nice.”

Fundy seriously considered how likely it would be for him to be murdered by Technoblade for finding his house. It was too high a chance to risk it. But there was no other place where he would be able to find Phil... He was never home, and Fundy would rather Ghostbur lead him there than walk there alone. Some part of him wanted to pretend Ghostbur would protect his only son, but he knew he wouldn’t.

Fundy would just hope that the life he lost trying to tell Phil what was going on with Tommy wouldn’t be a Lasting one.

“I... Sure, Ghostbur. Sure. Show me Technoblade’s house. I... I really need to talk to Phil.”

* * *

Evening was fast approaching and Skeppy did not know what to do. He felt young again, like he couldn’t stop moving. This was his best friend, the platonic love of his life, the man he chose to spend his life with. And he was _back_ . He was back, Skeppy had to believe that. He had stayed away from the Egg the entire day (Skeppy knew because he blocked the basement entrance with an obsidian-lava sandwich, and Bad would have commented on it if he’d seen it), _and_ was planning a date night.

It had been so, so long since they last had a proper one. And he missed Bad, he really did.

He had walked upstairs to tell Dream and Tommy that he would be busy that evening when the door to Tommy’s room opened. Well, Dream’s room. But it was Tommy’s for the moment. Dream walked into the hall, and he seemed... Lighter, in some way. Like he had actually had fun talking to Tommy. Which was good, it would be better for everyone if they got along. 

“Hey, Skeppy,” Dream greeted, a wave accompanying his words, probably on autopilot. “You look happier. And a suit? That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, hands rubbing against the material. “I thought about wearing a dress, but I thought that would be a little bit much for this, a little _too_ fancy. Oh- Bad, he- You know, we talked and he- So, he said-”

Dream’s chuckle brought him out of the excited-stuttering hole he’s fallen into. “You and Bad are making up from your argument?”

“Well- No, but yeah, well- Bad planned a date night, to make things up to me. I- I really think that he’s trying to change, Dream,” he stage-whispered. “I- Sorry, can you stay here and look after Tommy tonight? We’ll probably be out a lot of the evening.”

 _ <Badboyhalo whispered to Skeppy _ . _ > _

_Badboyhalo: It’s almost time!_

_Badboyhalo: i’ll send you the coordinates when you say you’re ready! :D_

**_Fuck_** , he was _**unbelievably**_ weak for that man.

“I don’t mind staying with Tommy,” Dream replied, gently snapping him back to reality. “I think that’s good, you two making up. You two really work better under stress when you have each other.”

“Stress? Are you just referring to Tommy?” Skeppy joked. 

“Well...” Dream laughed, his smile audible under his mask. “He is a little gremlin. But no, seriously, he is hurt and I know having a kid here will be unusual for you.”

“Yeah,” Skeppy agreed, although his good mood did not fade. “Bad’s ready for me now, so I’m actually going to head out, now, but I’m glad that you’re looking after Tommy. Remember to eat a-”

“A vegetable with our meal. I know, Skeppy, I know,” Dream said, humor evident in his voice. For a moment, for some reason, Skeppy expected Dream to jokingly call him _mom_. When Dream was a kid, he'd always put up a fight about the title. But rethinking it, he found he did not mind it nearly as much as he had before. He thought it was a sweet term that had a place in his heart, even though Dream made it a point to only use it when things were _really_ wrong.

However, it was a little too late to change his mind now, and there was no way to interrupt a conversation to change that boundary after so long.

“Alright, just checking,” Skeppy said, taking a few steps back, towards the stairs. He knew he was worrying Dream, so turned before he fell backwards and there were two people in the house with head energies. “Good night, Dream. Have fun.”

“Good _night_ , Skeppy,” Dream laughed, no longer hiding his amusement. “Seriously, _go_!”

* * *

Badboyhalo was nervous. He did not take that description lightly. His tail swished back and forth behind him, as he sat in his chair, his mind running through everything that could possibly go wrong, or could have _already_ gone wrong. He wanted things to go well, he did. Skeppy was- Now that he was so far out and had time to clear his head, Skeppy was _so important_. 

Why was he so adamant about helping the Egg? Something about the distance, at least he _thought_ it was the distance, made the call much less strong and he found himself questioning everything he had been doing.

What _had_ he been doing? Calling Skeppy a battery? A _battery_? And, oh Wither, he had _meant_ it, which was the most disgusting part of it all. He had almost thrown his _relationship_ away for the Egg! Even worse, he had almost thrown _Skeppy_ away for the Egg. Even if they stopped being in a relationship, he would not want to live in a world where Skeppy was not around him. Even if they did permanently separate. But he almost made Skeppy never want to talk to him again.

Even if the egg was important, it wasn’t _that_ important. Skeppy had to come first. Skeppy _always_ had to come first. It was wrong of him to act otherwise.

So it was incredibly important that the date went well. If it didn’t, Skeppy might just leave, and Bad would not even be able to blame him. Not like the other times that they moved out in a huff, or kicked each other out, especially before the Incident. No, this one was Absolutely not Skeppy’s fault. It was his. 

So it _had_ to go well. Or Skeppy would leave, and Bad would have no leg to stand on if he was hurt.

Bad found himself waiting a good number of minutes for Skeppy to show up. That made sense, because he had gone a notable ways away from the main section of the Badlands to set up their date spot. It was quite far away, considering, and it would take Skeppy a while to get there. But muffin, it was beautiful.

There was a fountain in the center, made of quartz, but the decorations were gold blocks. Expensive, he knew, but Skeppy was worth the expense. Especially after the rough month that he put that poor man through. Around the fountain were two tables- For aesthetic, rather than function. Bad sat at one table, while the other lay empty. All around the tables were flowers and small plants, a beautiful garden that took even Bad’s breath away, and could be traveled around through the cobble path he had set up, which looped around and, always, brought them back to the fountain and tables. 

Muffin, he was nervous. What if Skeppy didn’t like it? What if he thought it was ugly, or like he hadn’t tried hard enough to impress him? What if he thought Bad was taking shortcuts instead of properly taking care of him? What if he realized Bad wasn’t good enough for him and never showed up, hanging out with _Technoblade_ instea-

“Hey, Bad.”

Startled, Bad turned to find Skeppy standing on the cobble path, and Bad _swore_ he forgot how to speak for a moment. Muffin, he was _so happy_ to see Skeppy, it was like the world froze. And he looked so handsome, which wasn’t the main focus, but still very nice. Skeppy was in a black suit with red accents, a tribute to Bad’s standard outfit, rather than the usual blue clothes that perfectly fit with the diamond-blue of his skin. It was _so sweet_ of him to wear Bad’s colors, even though _Bad_ was _supposed_ to be the one apologizing. 

There was too long a moment, and Bad suddenly realized that he had stood up and then just stood there like a- well, like a love-struck demon, and hadn’t actually responded.

“Hey, Skeppy,” he whispered, grin covering his face. “You look nice.” _I missed you_.

“Hey, Bad,” he replied, returning the grin, and walked over to the table. 

Bad wanted to hold him, wanted to protect him from everything bad in the world, wanted to take him somewhere where they would never hurt each other again. Wanted a miracle. He didn’t reach out to touch until Skeppy initiated the hug himself.

The second he held Skeppy, Bad knew he wouldn’t want to let go. If he did, then reality might just tear them apart again.

But he didn’t have to worry about letting go, because Skeppy seemed very much on the same page- which was surprising, given how dissonant they had been, but also not surprising at all. As soon as Skeppy wrapped his arms around him, he buried his face in Bad’s neck and squeezed him just as tightly, stubbornly refusing to let go. Bad wanted to cry, not from sadness but a joy he had missed feeling since the Egg. Skeppy seemed to feel the same way, his hot tears already splashing onto Bad’s neck. But he did not comment on it.

It was okay for Skeppy to need to cry. He would be there for as long as he needed.

“This is nice,” Skeppy finally said, both a smile and tears in his voice. “This is... This is the best date ever, Bad. Really.”

“It hasn’t even started yet, Silly,” Bad laughed, but made no move to actually move things along. Skeppy was there, _in his arms_. If he had to pass up all of his plans just to have Skeppy there, with him, forever, he would. He would be more than alright with that, actually. He wouldn't even mind them staying like this for the rest of their lives.

“I know,” Skeppy said, his signature grin audible in his voice as he talked. The tears had stopped, not that many of them had fallen and, hopefully, he was happy enough to not _want_ to cry. “But still, it’s the best date we’ve ever had. I’ve _missed_ you, Bad.”

“I- I missed you too, Skeppy,” he said, and suddenly found himself _very_ on the urge of crying. “I missed you so much. Gods, Geppy, I’m so _sorry_ for how I treated you. I- Letting the vines take over our home even when you hate them? Spending more time with you than the Egg? Calling you a-”

Lips pressed against his cheek at the same time as a blue finger pressed gently on his lips. Skeppy had detangled himself from the hug enough to stop Bad’s spiral of negative things, knowing it was far more an attack on himself than an apology. He _needed_ to get better at not using apologies to say how terrible he felt he was. That wasn’t the point of an apology.

“That’s enough, Bad,” Skeppy said, eyes shining with fondness. “You can apologize later, if you need to. But for now, let’s enjoy this date you’ve set up for us. I’m really excited to see what you have planned. I know that, since it’s you, it will be amazing.”

Could love make someone melt? Bad felt like he was melting.

“Yeah! Alright. Sit at the table, and I’ll bring out the food. I have _plans_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Dream's attempt to tell his story was very interesting! I know people were expecting an epic tale or some lies and manipulation, but honestly two adhd minds trying to tell a story goes wonky very quickly... This is me every time me and my family try to talk about things. We wander so off-topic that we can never find out way back... Oops XD
> 
> As for date night: Part two will be in the next chapter! So far it's been pretty nice! Did you all enjoy the fluff? I know it's not this story's typical content ^-^;;
> 
> (P.S. Don't worry about Fundy's part <3)


	17. I Promise This Is Not Just a Skephalo Fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be much longer, but I am _**very**_ tired and I had so much trouble focusing all day... My apologies. But at least we have the part 2 of Skephalo date night! Hope you enjoy the fluff intermission ^-^;;

Skeppy was honestly impressed by what Bad had done, as he dug into the steak served to him. Not because Bad had done some amazing feat of building, or because it was completely Skeppy’s tastes, because those things didn’t matter. Not as much as Bad _trying_ , anyway. It had been... Too long, since Bad had properly _tried_ to fix things. Seeing him rush around, trying to make everything perfect just because he _cared_ so much, made Skeppy feel light inside.

Bad rushed back to the table for the third time, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at his partner’s antics. 

He really _was_ too cute.

“Bad, please, sit down,” he laughed, reaching out with one hand to gently grip Bad’s wrist. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, I just want to spend time with you.”

Bad pouted, scrunching his nose in that way that just made Skeppy so _fond_ he almost forgets to breathe, sometimes. “But you deserve to have a perfect evening, Skeppy! I just want to take care of you.”

Listen. Skeppy had a weakness for when Bad would do things for him, or protect him, because it showed he _cared_. Because he knew that was Bad’s love language at his core. Because he knew that, if he let him do his thing, Bad would light up with his signature grin, and Skeppy would immediately melt into a puddle because Bad was happy. It was an easily-exploitable weakness that was hard to overcome. 

Which was why it was _so_ difficult for him not to let go and watch Bad continue to run around like a headless chicken, instead of encouraging him to come sit down. Badboyhalo made him _weak._

But he managed to do it anyway, gently tugging at Bad’s wrist until he sat down across from him, pouting but still hiding a smile, so not _truly_ upset. _Good_. 

“Really, Bad,” he said, gently. Fondly. “I just- Even if we don’t get through a quarter of the things you want to do, I’ll be happy, because I’m with _you_. Even when you push my buttons, or we’re not the happiest with each other, I’m just happy to be with you. So just- Just... Spend time with me, please?”

He knew he was lucky, though- Bad often forgot it, but he was _just_ as weak for Skeppy as Skeppy was for him. _Especially_ when Skeppy asked, so sincerely, to just spend _time_ with him. 

An easily-exploitable (but rarely used) weakness.

In true dramatic Bad fashion, he sighed deeply and flopped down in the chair, but, no matter what act he put on, the indulgent grin on his face gave him away. He had no trouble indulging Skeppy a little bit. Which was good- Because he really _did_ just want to spend time with Bad.

“Alright, Skeppy,” Bad sighed, _finally_ returning to his own steak. “I can sit here and hang out with you. It might not be as exciting as what I was going to do, though.”

“Bad, spending the evening with you is the most exciting thing that happened this _month_ ,” Skeppy countered. Was he laying it on thick? Yes. Was he being overly sappy? Yes. But was it extremely true? Also yes.

“I- Ah- _Skeppy!_ ” Bad sputtered, his head immediately ducking, letting his too-large hood fall down and hide his expression. But it was fine, because Skeppy could imagine the red-tinged cheeks and flustered look all on his own. Hiding it did little to stop him from looking embarrassed, or masking his expression at all. But it _was_ cute.

“What?” he grinned.

“That’s not- That’s not fair! I- Exciting things happened this month!”

“I’m not saying they didn’t, Bad,” he teased, “I’m saying that this would be the _most_ exciting thing this month. And the best, actually.”

“Now that’s just- Now that’s just exaggeration,” Bad mumbled, but his heart wasn’t in it. Skeppy could tell by his pleased tone of voice, and that way he acted “shy”, but was actually just playing it up.

 _Cute._

“It really isn’t,” Skeppy objected. It _really wasn’t_ an exaggeration. But he kept his tone light, so as not to ruin the mood. He wanted to have a nice time, not send Bad into another guilt spiral. “But anyway, I meant to ask- How did you get all this set up in this short amount of time? It’s so far away and you did really well on the details.”

The compliment, mixed with Skeppy’s question, did _not_ go unnoticed. Bad showed his face, adorned with his smug little smile he had when he was pleased with himself. Why was everything Bad did so adorable? It really wasn’t fair.

“Well, I did all of the designing,” Bad explained, excitedly. “Sam helped a little, but it was a _little_. He and Puffy helped me actually build it all, including the- Well, you haven’t seen that yet, so it isn’t important. But we basically worked together all day to create the perfect spot to have a date night! And it’s going to be here after tonight, too, so we can come here whenever we want!”

Skeppy wasn’t good at decorating, he was told, so he admired Bad’s ability to design everything to the last detail. Even if he wasn’t sure exactly how much “a little” was, in terms of Sam’s help. It wouldn’t be the first time Bad took credit for someone else’s design. (No, stop it, he wasn’t bitter about that anymore, why bring it up, he’d ruin the mood, _bad Skeppy_ ). 

He still admired the work. It looked very nice, and Bad was clearly proud of it.

“It looks amazing,” he compliments again. “I wouldn’t mind coming here again, sometime. You did- You did well.”

“Aww, thank you, Skeppy! I’m glad- I just wanted you to have the perfect evening. You deserve that.”

Skeppy went to get another bite of his meal, only to find that the steak, carrots, and water he’d been served were all gone. He had been so caught up in his conversation that he hadn’t noticed. It was nice. It was... Really nice.

“I don’t know if I _deserve_ a perfect anything,” Skeppy mumbled, even as he saw Bad’s eyes narrow. 

It was true. No wonder the Egg was trying to convince Bad to leave him: Bad spent half a day making an entire date site for them, far away, so Skeppy feel appreciated, and Skeppy would have just cleared the vines and done something at home, not too extravagant, but nice. But here Bad was, tripping over himself to make Skeppy happy. How could he claim to be good enough for _Badboyhalo_ ? Even if they’d been together for so long, that didn’t mean they _fit_. That it wasn’t a fluke-

“-eppy? Skeppy? Diamond, are you okay?”

Skeppy blinked and found that his smile had fallen off his face at some point, betraying the loss of his joyous mood. Shit, he hadn’t meant to upset Bad. But there he was, frowning and concerned because of Skeppy’s ass. 

Shit. No. He was- He _was_ worthy of love. He had to remember that. It was okay to be loved sometimes. He _had_ to remember that. Even as the insecurities took over.

Quickly, he flashed Bad an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I got distracted. What did you say?”

“Well, I said that you _do_ deserve perfection! All the time! But also, I wanted you to follow me. I think that, maybe, we can do another date night soon, and do the other things we had planned. But there was _one_ thing I definitely wanted to do tonight,” Bad explained. “That is, if you’re up for it! I noticed you’re looking out of it. If you need some space, we can wait.”

“No!” Skeppy shocked himself with his vehemence. “I mean... No, it’s fine. We can do it tonight. Whatever it is you want, we can do that. Where do we need to go?”

Bad jumped up, his food also gone, and turned towards one part of the garden that they had set up, somehow managing to have three people work at the speed of light. Not that he was complaining. The cobble path turned into a grass one as the path cut through the garden towards an area surrounded by trees. Bad bounced on his heels, practically shaking from excitement, as he waited for Skeppy to stand and join him. 

He did- Quickly, readly. And as he did, he so casually, as if he did this every time, slipped his hand into Bad’s. It had been _so_ long since he had just... Casually held Bad’s hand. It felt just as nice as the beaming grin that Bad gave him, making his knees weak. 

“Okay, Skeppy, I need you to close your eyes,” Bad said. “Keep them closed, until I say you can open them. Okay? It’s a surprise. Just... hold my hand and follow me.”

And he did. Because he loved him. He trusted him.

Skeppy was _so weak_ for that man.

* * *

The only thing preventing Bad’s hand from shaking when he led Skeppy down the path was the fact that he was _leading Skeppy down the path_ , and he would feel the trembling of his partner’s hands. But it was fine. It was okay. It was just a little detour, a surprise, and if he said no then it was fine, they didn’t even have to talk about it. But it would be a nice gesture.

Finally, they got to their destination. There was a diamond stage in the center of a little clearing in a man-made forest: Three rows of four diamond blocks, and then two blocks in the ground one of the long sides, like little steps or something. Fourteen diamond blocks.

Expensive, but worth it. 

Because Skeppy opened his eyes when he squeezed his hand, and _froze_. Eyes wide, disbelieving but believing, shocked and fond, processing as fast as he can. Bad pulled on his sleeve and gently brought him on to the stage. It was fine. He could do this.

“Oh my gosh, Bad,” he said, breathless. “You- _That’s so many diamonds, Bad!_ ”

“Okay, okay,” Bad admitted with a giggle, “we might have to take the diamonds. But we can replace the stage with other blocks. But it was important for them to be here for this. Um, I actually, one second-”

It took a second for Bad to find what he needed in his inventory, but soon it was in his hotbar and ready to go.

“Alright, found it. Skeppy, I- Skeppy, I’ve been thinking, about our marriage. We got married by my culture’s standards. We’ve been married by _my_ culture's standards for a very long time, Skeppy, and I’m okay with that. But... We never had a wedding that fit where you came from. That _you_ got to plan."

Bad could tell was Skeppy putting the pieces together, smart as he always was, so pressed on before Skeppy could interrupt or convince him he didn't need to do this. He didn't need to; he _wanted_ to.

"Nether weddings are still binding here, but... I- I was selfish. Incredibly selfish, when we first got married, and turned it on you. You- You deserved more than that. You deserve more than how I've been treating you, in general. I want to make things right. I want to show you that I _want_ to make a change.”

“Bad,” Skeppy said, clearly unsure what to say and _unbelievably_ flustered. “Bad, you don't have to-”

"I know."

Bad dropped to one knee swiftly, before his partner could even finish his flustered objection. He had to maintain the courage before he lost it forever. The worst Skeppy could do was say no, of course.

“Skeppy. You’re my life partner, my _husband_ , the platonic love of my life, and my best friend,” he began, the practiced speech rolling off his tongue. “I- I love you, and I will always love you. I don't want to be so selfish anymore. I want to prove to _you_ that I don't want to be selfish anymore. So, Skeppy...” 

In his hand, Bad held up a ring. It was a thin black band with three rubies set into the metal, perfectly matching Bad’s colors. Sam had been the one to give it to Bad, so he could ask, and it just fit so _well_ he had to use it, rather than a regular diamond. (It being in his colors didn’t hurt.)

“Skeppy, will you make me the happiest demon to ever live, and have a _real wedding_ with me? One that wasn't planned and run by me. A- A team effort, if you want it.”

It took him a second to respond, and Bad was _petrified_. But it wasn't necessary.

* * *

Skeppy hadn’t been expecting to be _proposed to_ that night, especially by his _husband_ . But he _sure as fuck did not say no._

Maybe things _would_ work out, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want y'all to know: I was explaining the proposal part to my parental unit and said the stage was fourteen blocks, which made them think Bad had built a diamond bowling alley type shape to propose to Skeppy in, and now I can't stop imagining it. 
> 
> So have that image, please XD


	18. Information About Tommy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks, everyone, for y'alls patience while I took a few days to catch my breath. I was getting anxious and burnt out, so needed a pause between updates. ^-^;; Here's a new chapter for everyone! I hope it's passable
> 
> Also... _about that festival, huh._

It was mid-morning in the snowy escape Technoblade called home and Phil was happy to simply sit in his sitting room and talk. Light-hearted conversations about the villagers, the bees and the turtles, how things have been since the last visit. Not that much time had passed since the last visit, of course, but it was the thought that counted. It was pleasant, to sit and talk with Technoblade, calm and casual, like they did when Wilbur was growing up, on the rare weekends that Technoblade could visit their home. It was almost like old times, and Phil had no worries.

Until they both looked out the window, by chance, and saw Ghostbur.

Ghostbur and  _ Fundy _ .

Phil opened his mouth to speak- To warn Technoblade, to ask a question, to do  _ something _ . But Techno beat him to it.

“Don’t say  _ Technolate _ , chat,” he grumbled, the added  _ chat _ a helpful clarification for exactly  _ who  _ and  _ what _ he was addressing. “I was here the whole time! It was those two that were late.”

“You were... Expecting them, Techno?” he asked, voice light, but Phil was not as comfortable as his tone suggested. He did not like when his loved ones did not tell him what was going on. At least... when he was there to actually help.

Technoblade nodded, in that nonchalant way he had, but it did not, surprisingly, make things better. Fundy drew closer, practically dragging his feet through the snow, as Ghostbur happily floated along across the snowy plains.

“Yeah, Fundy messaged me last night. Ghostbur wanted to bring him over, and apparently gave him the coordinates despite him now wanting them...” He sighed dramatically and rubbed at his forehead. “I love Ghostbur, but still... Is he trying to be incompetent on purpose? Anyway, he and the voices have both said he has something important to tell you, but  _ he _ needs to tell you. I’m not supposed to.”

That... That boded  _ so well _ , especially given the dumpster fire of a situation life in the SMP was, at that time. It made Phil  _ sooo _ relaxed and relieved to hear those words come out of Techno’s mouth as the pair made their way to the house. He did miss his son, of course he did, and any visit from Ghostbur was a good one. But Fundy? Things were... Complicated... With Fundy.

He wasn’t actually sure if he ever wanted to see him. But it didn’t look as if he had a choice.

“Anything else you haven’t told me, while you’re at it?” he asked, words more barbed than he meant them to be. 

“No, that’s about it,” Techno replied. “Kid messaged me last night, we kind of argued for a while, he told me he’s been trying to track you down for days, needed to speak to you... Gave me multiple assurances that he wouldn’t share my location because he isn’t acting as a government official right now, just as your grandson... Something about orphans... That’s about it, yeah.”

As Phil listened, he watched Ghostbur lead a reluctant Fundy up the stairs. The kid looked like he wanted to run with every step he took. An unsettling question occurred to him: Was he scared of Technoblade, whose house he found when L’Manburg wasn’t supposed to approach Technoblade at all? Or was he scared of Phil?

He didn’t like that thought.

Ghostbur knocked on the door, sound ringing out at... A completely normal volume. Not loud at all. Yet, somehow, the noise of it made him wince. Outside the window, he could see Fundy flinch as well. Back up, as if ready to run. 

Was Fundy  _ scared _ of him?

Techno rose from his seat and walked to the door. He did not seem worried at all, even though a foreign official from a nation that hated him (he saw the posters) was on his doorstep. Phil didn’t like the fact that Techno wasn’t worried. Wasn’t Fundy a danger? Wasn’t Fundy an enemy to everything Technoblade stood for? What could have happened in that conversation, a conversation that Phil was not privy to, to get Technoblade so willing to have Fundy in his home?

“Hello, Phil,” Fundy said as he entered. 

Although Ghostbur entered without issue, Fundy stayed right by the door, back against the wall, apprehension written in all his features. When Technoblade shut the door, talking to Ghostbur in a quieter tone, Fundy flinched- but that was the most emotion Phil could pick up on. He had always known his grandson to be closed-off, whether it was because he was there or just in general, but this was a different kind of reservation.

Perhaps his reaction to the propaganda was too far.

“Hello, Fundy,” he said from his chair. Should he stand? He didn’t know. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t come here.”

Even from across the room, he could see Fundy bristle. It was either his parental tone or the accusation under the surface that caused it: Wilbur reacted to both in a similar way at his age. It was as painful as it was comforting to see Fundy resemble Wilbur at all. Part of him didn’t want him to look like Wilbur. He had lost the right to that legacy the moment he decided to be adopted. Even if Phil was eventually the one who adopted him. He never should have been adopted in the first place.

“Phil, we need to talk,” Fundy said, matter-of-fact, not replying to his statement at all. Wilbur never really did that, not when he was in trouble. It was odd to see. “We need to talk about Tommy.”

Oh. Tommy? He already knew  _ that _ . 

“I know about Tommy’s  _ exile _ , Fundy,” he laughed, expecting Technoblade to join in with a mocking comment, as he so often did. But on the left side of the room, Techno made no move to join in. And Fundy’s expression was strange, as if he had somehow missed the mark severely, but it would have been better if what he said  _ had _ been the right answer.

“Something else happened to Tommy,” Fundy explained, voice tight. Hoarse as well, which Phil found concerning. Although, not as concerning as the mysterious thing that happened to Tommy.

“Something else?”

Fundy sighed and nodded. Short, reluctant, as if waiting for the next strike. “A few days ago, Tommy had an accident in the Nether. A fireball hit him at the wrong time and he... Fell. Instead of dying, he just sustained major damage and hit his head. The respawn window has passed; even if he respawned now, the mental damage would carry through. Even if he  _ could _ respawn without risking it being counted as Canon.”

Mental damage. Hit his head. That could mean all sorts of things. It could mean something mildly bad, or something catastrophic. Tommy was hurt. Something had happened to Tommy. Technoblade allowed  _ Fundy to be there _ without argument. Something  _ very bad _ had happened to Tommy.

“What- Fundy, what kind of mental damages are we talkin’ about?” he forced himself to ask. 

He felt like a worried father, as odd as it was. It was Wilbur who had raised Tommy, always had been Wilbur, but he adored the kid. Would have raised him as his own, if he hadn’t been so busy and Wilbur hadn’t been so insistent that he could take care of Tommy on his own. That he had it handled. Clearly, he hadn’t had it handled at all. But it was too late to take it all back. All he could do was worry, and react.

“I-” Fundy looked as if he was forcing himself to speak every word that came out of his mouth. “Tommy has complete amnesia. He doesn’t even remember Wilbur, from what I have been told. He is living with- He’s- Dream has been acting weird, ever since Tommy fell. Extremely caring and overprotective, even bringing Tommy to live with his dads. But he’s been resistant to having visitors and has made any excuse for why Tubbo and Quackity couldn’t visit again, after they made him cry last time.”

That was a lot to unpack, and all of it made him sick to his stomach.

“Complete amnesia,” Phil echoed. “He remembers nothing? No one? Not even- Not even the discs? Not even L’Manburg? Nothing?”

“Not as far as I know. If he has remembered everything in the past few days, no one has told me about it. However, I am not sure if we would be able to know the full truth, at this point. From what I understand, Skeppy is taking care of him, and Dream has been monitoring him constantly. He even stands guard while Tommy is sleeping, so no one can interact with him without Dream present. That is how Tubbo and Quackity explained the situation to me,” Fundy elaborated.

Such a careful speaker. Not like Wilbur, who said almost anything he wanted and walked through the consequences. But perfectly like his mother, all calculated words and intelligent explanations. 

But that was not what he should be worrying about. Tommy. Hurt. Dream. Right.

“So you’re saying Dream is essentially holding him hostage, then,” Phil summarized. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Techno’s head snap up. That caught his attention, then. Good to know.

“I...” Fundy paused, his brows furrowed. “I am not  _ not _ saying that. I wouldn’t accuse Dream of doing something like that, but that doesn’t mean he  _ wouldn’t do it _ , you know? I... I’m just worried for Tommy. I haven’t been able to see him since he was taken to the Badlands. I truly believe something is wrong, and I need someone to help me make sure he’s alright. And rescue him, preferably.”

* * *

In normal circumstances, the teenager that leaned against his wall would be a threat. However, Technoblade knew far too much about worrying over those he couldn’t save alone, and about having to go into dangerous areas to make sure those people were safe. In all honesty, he admired the balls on the kid. The voices thought he was cute, as well. And a furry, which some of the many voices thought was a good thing and others did not. But that- That wasn’t important.

What  _ was _ important was that the kid needed help, and Tommy needed help... But that “help” looked an awful lot like  _ fighting against Dream _ . 

He was not about to do that unless strictly, absolutely necessary. So he would need to step in and make this rescue mission actually go  _ well _ , before everyone lost a life, or worse.

* * *

_ What I Know About ME: Written by TommyInnit _

_ I am sixteen, pogchamp! _

_ I am friends with Dream. Dream is very nice and wears a mask. Dream struggles with being a good person sometimes, but he is a good person. Dream has two dads and also parental issues. Dream definitely has a favorite parent, but I’m not allowed to say who (Skeppy. It’s Skeppy) _

_ No one knows when my birthday is... _

_ Is Wilbur my dad or my brother? Badboyhalo and Dream say he’s my brother but Skeppy thinks he’s my dad and I can’t ask the boy president  _

_ The boy president used to be my friend, I guess. He exiled me for no reason. His new best friend is a skinny guy in blue. He wears sunglasses. The sunglasses make me nervous? _

_ I don’t like sleeping alone. Not like, I need someone in the same bed or anything, but if I’m the only one in the room, it makes me nervous _

_ I live in the Badlands with Skeppy, Dream, and BBH _

_ I am cooler than Skeppy _

_ My arm hurts. A lot. It’s the arm that got set on fire, though, so it makes sense that it hurts _

_ I don’t have any friends that aren’t Dream right now. They all left when I got exiled _

_ I potentially have a dad, I think, maybe? Also a cousin or a nephew or something? I have a furry and his name is Fundy and I haven’t met him yet but he lives with the boy president _

_ PRIME LOG. PRIME IF LOG _

_ I used to live with Dream at a pretty campsite near the water. I want to go back there _

_ I had two music discs and I liked them very much, Dream said. I don’t really understand, though. I think that there’s some significance that he knows that I don’t and he forgot to tell me _

_ The jumper I’m wearing used to be Dream’s but suck it bitch, it belongs to me now! _

_ I call people a bitch a lot, even when I don’t mean to  _

_ I’m... Not sure I like that _

_ People appearing in doorways and stuff without warning scares me a lot, even more than normal people. I wonder why _

_ I don’t like small rooms? (Dream led me to a small closet for some things because I needed to try walking for a few minutes, and all of a sudden seeing this little closet with chests made me stop breathing) _

_ I don’t like it when I stop breathing _

_ I wrote novels! How to Sex _

_ Badboyhalo does not like the How to Sex series. He wants me to stop writing it _

_ I like moths. I want to hold one in my hand and give it a pretty name _

**_I am scared of the man in my dreams_ ** .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this chapter is too angsty- I was trying not to go too deep with the pain right out of such a fluffy chapter, so I hope this was a decent middle ground
> 
> Also tried something new with one of the sections... Wonder which one /s XD 
> 
> If you want to, feel free to leave a comment! Also, if you want to put a comment but the idea of my responding makes you anxious/etc, feel free to end your comment with "/don't reply" or "/dr". I won't reply to those comments ^-^
> 
> Have a nice evening, everyone!


	19. Books and (Definitely No) Manipulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're 3 subscriptions from 200! Wow, that's... a lot. Thank you, everyone!

Dream spent a few hours that day destroying the vines that had overrun the house (while discreetly distracting the other people affected by the vines whenever they wandered in to try and visit the egg). Tommy was occupied, so he had not needed to stay there the entire time, or worry about something happening- for the most part.

Unlike the past few days, Tommy had been focused on something _other_ than Dream since he had woken up that morning. Instead of badgering him with questions, he began writing things down. Anything he knew about himself, or was told about himself, got put into the book. It made Dream curious. What all did he know? What about what they said stuck in Tommy’s mind? 

Worry also plagued him, however.

Tommy could have remembered something and decided not to tell Dream he remembered. Desperately, he wanted to control it, fix the situation by getting Tommy to feel he _had_ to tell him everything he remembered before he even tried to write it down. Or he could make Tommy let him read the book. It would be easy. Tommy trusted him, Tommy _liked_ him. He could do it. Prevent problems before they arose.

He _could_ do it.

But... Bad said that trust was better earned than taken. That it lasted _longer_ if earned than taken. That even if Tommy remembered, he might not hate him if Dream tried to foster trust without using him for his own ends.

His way was easier. However, it had steeper consequences. 

With everyone _technically_ allowed to visit the recovering Tommy, any wrong step could bring concern from multiple parties. Or, worse, Tommy could be convinced to turn against him, if it looked as if he was manipulating the kid. So he had to play things as carefully as he could. Not to mention that twisting Tommy’s will around was... Wrong. He shouldn’t do it.

~~Unless he knew he couldn’t get caught.~~

So he wouldn’t.

But... But it wouldn’t be manipulation if... _He_ opened up to _Tommy,_ and Tommy, unprompted by Dream, just... _Happened to decide_ to show him the book.

That wasn’t manipulation. That was equivalent exchange. A typical social interaction. Nothing concerning at all. Especially nothing anyone could say was him using or twisting Tommy. He wouldn’t even prompt him. If he chose to show the memory book in return, then he _happened_ to chose to show the memory book in return.

Bad couldn’t get him in trouble for that.

* * *

Dream had been gone for a while, and Tommy felt a bit lonely. But he also knew Dream had things to do, all around the server and at the house. It had to be tough work, being a god. Or maybe it wasn’t, and Tommy was just misunderstanding the whole thing. He didn’t know. It wasn’t like he had a lot of experience to draw from.

The only things he could draw from were written in his book. He had started working on it, and it made for a good distraction for when Dream was working on other things. But then he heard Dream come back! He liked Dream coming back. Dream’s visits were always very nice. So he closed the book.

And was surprised to note that Dream came in holding a book as well! He blinked, interested, as Dream settled in his chair. It really was Dream’s Chair, no one else’s, even if Skeppy and Bad sat in it sometimes.

“Hey Tommy,” Dream said, friendly and polite as always. “How’s the book been coming along?”

“It’s going well,” Tommy replied, playing with the cover of it in his hands. Dream would probably find it really boring. It didn’t really have much in it that Dream hadn’t told him himself, so he wouldn’t want to hear Tommy just read out everything he already said. It would be dumb. “What about- What about you? You have a book.”

“I do have a book,” Dream acknowledged, as he opened the book. “Do you want to see?”

“YES! Yes I want to see, show it to me, please?”

Dream opened the book and Tommy was immediately captivated.

It was _not_ a memory book. It was a _sketch book._ The page he opened to had two girls drawn on it, both wearing masks like Dream’s and wearing green. The taller girl, who seemed older, wore a hoodie-dress that game to just above her knees, and white knee-socks with two black stripes, and black flat shoes. Her hair was long, going over her shoulders in two waterfalls that almost reached her waist. 

Next to her was a significantly younger girl, who seemed more enthusiastic and child-like, her hand up in a peace sign as she seemingly grinned- although no one could _actually_ tell, since her face was hidden behind the mask. Unlike the older girl, her hood was down, and her hair was in a messy ponytail. Her outfit was also less typically feminine, wearing jeans under her green hoodie, and sneakers. 

Tommy thought she looked like a good friend.

“These are from when I was a kid,” Dream explained. “I liked coming up with characters, especially before I met Sapnap. I liked to pretend I had these siblings and friends and I would just make up all these stories, to fill the time. These two... These two are characters from when I was really young, but I still use them today. I actually cosplay as her, sometimes,” Dream added, finger tapping on the older girl.

That was _fascinating._ Tommy leaned forward even more, to get a better look at the pictures. “You drew these ones when you were young? You were awesome at drawing! Holy shit! Those look so cool. And they’re your characters? Pogchamp!”

Dream chuckled beside him. “Yeah, they’re my characters. The older one, Mia -also called Mamacita, please don’t ask- was originally supposed to be, like, my older sister. I created her to be the big sister, and I would be the middle brother. But, I actually created some lore a while after I made her, and she’s now actually a version of me from a different universe.”

“So she’s a universe hopper?” Tommy asked. “That’s so cool! Is she badass?”

For some reason, that made Dream laugh. “Yeah, she is very badass. Not many people know that, though. She doesn’t seem threatening, so people don’t realize she _could_ be a threat. But mostly she’s just here for a good time. Drista, though...”

“Drista? Is that the other girl?”

“Yeah. This actually _is_ my sister character, that never changed. She’s always been my younger sister. I... I used to _beg_ my parents for another sibling, when I was a kid, and it just... Never happened. So I made a character. She is very chaotic, and never goes halfway with anything. But she’s also cute, and that’s a privilege I don’t have. She can get away with a lot more than I actually could, as a kid.”

Tommy laughed. “Projecting much?”

“Shut up, Tommy.” But Dream’s words held no heat. “I just... Liked writing a character who was free like that. Well, drawing a character. I have more, actually. Most of them are newer stuff, though, towards the end of the book.”

“Yes! Yes, show me, I wanna see. Do you have any men, or is it just cool girls?”

* * *

_What I Know About ME: Written by TommyInnit (Page 2)_

_-I forgot to tell Dream about the scary dreams_

_-I should probably tell him_

_-Dream draws! He makes characters, and even dresses up as some of them! they’re really cool_

_-Drista is my favorite. i wish i had a sister like her_

_-Dream said i used to light things on fire and cause destruction because i didn’t have a guardian who would actually tell me no_

_-I’m getting the feeling my “family” wasn’t actually that good at raising me_

_-Dream hinted at Wilbur doing some bad things, but he won’t say what they are_

_-There is a reason why I was scared of the storage room, and Dream knows what it is. But he says it’s too heavy a thing to say right away_

_-i don't know... if i WANT to know_

_-the furry is apparently my nephew?_

_-back home, i built a girlfriend out of logs and a pumpkin, and named her Hot Girl (Dream told me)_

_-I want to see my girlfriend, just to see what a wood girlfriend even *looks* like_

_-I had another dream about the man in the ravine last night. ~~he tried to ch~~ he was angry because i did something wrong ~~and i deserved what happened~~ _

_-today i learned i really like the smell of bread_

_-and cake. cake is so good????_

_-i also learned i’m used to being really active so that's why sitting in bed all the time feels *really* weird_

_-i want to walk around and go outside, but dream thinks it’s too dangerous. dream knows better than i do, right now, so..._

_-skeppy says i’m an agent of chaos, and that i’m actually connected to chaos, which is cool_

_-he also said i didn’t have a good brain to mouth filter. which is... probably true, actually_

_-dream said he hasn’t seen me wear anything but a white shirt with red sleeves since he’s met me. i know people usually don’t change their style too much around here, but... the same shirt, for years? Really?_

_-i want to learn how to draw!_

_-i’ve been trying to remember things about Dream, but i can’t. i want to know more about him_

_-but speaking of memories... i can’t make myself remember _anything._ I only remember my ravine dreams when i write them down_

* * *

Tommy hadn’t shown him the book. But that was fine! He seemed very excited to see Dream’s book, and sat with him as he described all sorts of characters, even though he hadn’t thought Tommy would be all that interested. So it was fine that Dream didn’t get to see the book.

See? Dream wasn’t manipulating Tommy, because a manipulator would be angry that they didn’t get their “way”. Dream wasn’t angry.

Boom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we will tune back into the Manburg Trio (Tubbo, Quackity, Fundy) in a little bit, in case you're missing them. We just needed to pay a little attention to Tommy and Dream for a bit. ^-^;;
> 
> Also! I'd love to hear people's thoughts about Tommy's journal entries! I've been dropping things in there, here and there, that I find interesting


	20. Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, omg! Over 200 subscriptions! Y'all are overwhelming  
> Thank you, everyone, for the support!

_ What I Know About ME: Written by TommyInnit (Page 3) _

_ -The glitched-face boy appeared in my dreams again last night. I don’t like it i don’t like it i don’t like him i want him to go away PLEASE MAKE HIM GO AWAY I DON’T LIKE HIM I DON’T LIKE HIM _

_ -i don’t remember what happened in the nightmare i just remember that there was a boy with a glitched face and he _

_ -and he  _

_ -well. you know _

_ -ive been remembering more of my dreams when i wake up. i would like to stop doing that, please _

_ -i don’t want to remember my nightmares _

_ -they’re weird and scary _

_ -i asked about a boy with a glitched face and scary voice but dream said he’s never met anyone like that so it was probably just a nightmare _

_ -i hope it was just a nightmare _

_ -he scares me _

_ -Dream said he would take me to visit our home with the Prime Log as soon as I can walk downstairs and down the path to the bridge all on my own! _

_ -I’m not there yet, but I will be soon! I can do it as long as I try as hard as I can _

_ -Skeppy reminds me of someone sometimes. But I can’t remember who _

_ -Dream let me sit in the kitchen with him when we had breakfast today. Bad and Skeppy weren’t home, doing... something. It’s the last day Bad has to avoid the egg, so maybe Skeppy was distracting him _

_ -I asked Dream if Skeppy and Bad were using a crafting table together and Dream bopped me on the head. Apparently I’m only supposed to ask “age appropriate questions” _

_ -Unfair _

_ -Anyway, during breakfast, we were laughing, and talking about potatoes, and I remembered the phrase “The Great Potato War”. I don’t know what it means, but Dream seemed to recognize it _

_ -He didn’t explain because he said he was going to have a visitor come over soon, when I could walk around more, and they would explain about that and some other things _

_ -I’m a little confused, but that’s okay. Dream said that this person is really cool, and that he thinks I’ll like them! _

_ -Dream’s never said he thought I’d like someone before, so they must be *really* cool _

_ -Today, someone dropped a plate and I forgot how to breathe again _

_ -I think Dream isn’t telling me something about his friends _

_ -Or former friends. Or whatever _

_ -there’s something he doesn’t want me to know, i think _

_ -i don’t know if his old friends are good people or not. dream won’t talk about them _

_ -Dream said he did something wrong, that he thinks something i did led up to my accident. But i think he’s wrong. it was an accident was an accident was an accident. maybe what happened with his friends is that *they* blame him for what happened to me and won’t talk to him anymore _

_ -but i don’t want to ask _

_ -i do want to know why he always wears that mask, though. he *never* takes it off! _

* * *

_ Technically, _ Tubbo was allowed to visit Tommy. Technically, anyone was allowed to visit at any time, as long as they gave notice. However, it had been a week since Tommy’s accident, four or five days since his last visit, and he had not been able to visit. Every time he tried, Bad and Skeppy happily encouraged him to visit, only to say that they would have to be okay with Dream being there for the whole visit, after what happened last time. Or they would agree to let him come visit, only for Dream to message him a few minutes later and tell him Tommy was sleeping, or busy, or not feeling well, or just didn’t want to see him. No matter what, whether or not Dream was actually by Tommy’s side, he found an excuse to keep them away. And if he told them that Tubbo couldn’t visit and went anyway, Bad and Skeppy would have to, apologetically, turn him away. 

So he was  _ allowed _ to visit Tommy at any time, as long as he never tried to visit Tommy without Dream controlling every detail.

If Tubbo was never in another room with Dream again, it would be too fucking soon. Ever since Tommy was exiled, it was like something  _ shifted. _ He was either this impassive god that Tubbo knew and recognized, or a moody teen ready to lash out at the smallest thing. Actually, that had happened even  _ before _ his exile. It was why Dream’s outburst at the exile discussions was so terrifying: It was unpredictable, uncontrollable. He couldn’t make it go away because he didn’t know how it was caused in the first place.

He never wanted to be in a room with Dream  _ ever again. _ The way Dream stared at him when he talked to Tommy, desperate to see if he was okay... 

Tubbo didn’t know if it was the teenager or the god staring him down, but it made him scared of losing his last life and disappearing from the world for good.

But he also wanted to see Tommy. If- If being able to see Tommy meant that he had to be in the room with Dream, with his axe and his unpredictable temper which made his hands shake, then he would be in the room with Dream. He had been too scared of Dream before, too scared to put Tommy first. But he would put Tommy first this time, actually be his friend. Be  _ there _ for him, Dream be damned.

“You’re actually visiting him with Schlatt there?” Quackity asked over breakfast, watching Tubbo pack a number of things into a bag. Tommy didn’t have  _ anything _ the first time he’d visited, so he wanted to pack him something extra to have.

“Yeah,” he responded, then froze. Wait.

“Wait,” Quackity said, matching Tubbo’s thoughts. “Shit, I meant Dream. The bastard. You know who I mean. Tall, green, and scary.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yeah, Dream,” Tubbo agreed, laughing. 

He didn’t know why he was laughing. Was Dream like Schlatt? He didn’t know. But the laugh made Quackity relax, stop looking so tense, and that was a Good Thing. He couldn’t have Quackity be Upset with him.

“I kind of want to go alone when I visit Tommy,” Tubbo admitted with a wince. He wasn’t sure if Quackity would Like that. “Just... Maybe, if it’s just me, he won’t be so overwhelmed. And Dream might leave us alone long enough for me to ask if everything’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Quackity agreed, even though he absolutely did  _ not _ sound convinced. But that was okay. Tubbo was president, this was his decision to make.

“I probably won’t be back in time for our regular lunch, sorry,” Tubbo said with another wince. “I want to spend as much time with Tommy as I can. Even  _ with _ Dream over our shoulders.”

“No no, don’t worry about,” Quackity assured, quickly. “Don’t worry about it! Spend as much time as you would like with him. Or, as much time as Dream will allow you. I know all of this has been pretty hard on you. I can run things while you’re gone, go have a day off.”

“Okay,” Tubbo agreed with a smile. Quackity was so nice! He really did have Tubbo’s back, even though he got aggressive sometimes. 

He finished packing and finished his breakfast, then turned to go. But Quackity’s voice cut in before he could finish walking out the door.

“Really really quick question, Tubbo... This may sound weird, but... Do you know  _ anything _ about your parents?”

* * *

It had only been a week or so, but Tommy already knew how to tell when Dream was upset. Maybe because it happened so often. Not that it was Dream’s fault, obviously. People wouldn’t leave him alone and kept pushing him in whatever direction they saw fit. Especially that boy president, who  _ kept asking to visit Tommy, _ even when Tommy said no! It was really annoying.

The kid was his  _ former _ best friend, not his  _ current _ one.

With all that in mind, it wasn’t too surprising when Dream sighed deeply and said, “President Tubbo has informed me that he believes me to be keeping you here against your will, rather than for your safety, and does not believe that when you say you do not want to see him that those are your real feelings. He does not trust me much, and it, unfortunately, shows.”

Tommy rolled his eyes.  _ Of course _ the boy president did that. He was glaring at Dream the entire time he was there last, and kept badgering Dream even when Tommy told him to  _ go away _ and give him at least some  _ time to think first. _ (Less than a week... Was not enough time to think. He was trying to piece together his entire life, here!)

“Do you want me to let him in to talk to me, just so he will leave you alone?” Tommy asked with a sigh. 

It was so frustrating that Dream got so much shit just because this kid wouldn’t take no for an answer. What was his  _ deal? _ He fucked up, he had to live with it! Tommy had amnesia, he didn’t  _ need _ to be burdened by some random kid’s issues if he didn’t want to be. But there he was...

“I don’t want you to let him come over if you genuinely don’t want him over,” Dream soothed. “I was merely informing you of what has been happening. If you want to send him away again, just say the word. Unfortunately, he is  _ outside _ this time. Apparently he thought it would be harder to send him away if he sent his message right before arriving.”

Oh, so his ex-friend was a  _ crafty _ bitch. Okay. Good to know.

“Well if he’s already here, you can send him up,” Tommy sighed. “I... I think I feel well enough to deal with him today. If he is too much, or I can’t breathe again, I’ll make sure you know.”

“Alright,” Dream agreed, easily. “One more thing: Our dear president has been insisting he talk to you alone. You told me that you didn’t want to be alone with anyone you don’t trust yet, so I told him the same, but...”

“But he didn’t like that,” Tommy finished. “So you want to know if I want to be alone with him?”

“If you do not want to, you do not have to,” Dream assured, firm in his stance that Tommy didn’t have to do  _ anything _ he didn’t want to do. 

Tommy liked Dream a lot, liked how protective and supportive he was. He was glad that someone so trustworthy was with him in exile, instead of whoever he thought was a good crowd to hang with back in L’Whateverthefuck. But he also knew Dream worried. A lot. He didn’t want Dream to worry about him, when he had so much going on all the time. Tommy was... Scared, to meet the boy president  _ all alone. _ But if he didn’t, Dream would keep getting badgered.

And Dream would keep  _ worrying _ about Tommy, keep feeling the need to wrap him up and protect him.

“I... You know what, big man? I don’t mind talking with him alone, for a little bit. Just enough for him to know that you aren’t like, kidnapping me or something,” Tommy said. “I think I’m up for a one-on-one visit. But you’ll be nearby, right? In case something happens?”

Dream nodded as he moved towards the door, presumably to summon the child in a president’s suit. “All you have to do is whisper to me and I will be right there to help you. If you need anything, I mean  _ anything,  _ feel free to let me know.”

“I will! Don’t worry, Dream. Really. I’ll be fine!”

“I- You’re my friend, Tommy. I care about you. It’s my  _ job _ to worry.”

Well... At least Dream wasn't wrong about that. Friends _did_ worry. He just wished he could do something to make poor Dream worry about him _less._

* * *

Tubbo waited outside the building for what felt like hours. He had not seen Bad nor Skeppy anywhere, but that did not mean someone would not pop up to stop him if he tried to enter the mansion without permission. Something inside him worried that Dream would just leave him out there all day, a sick and twisted  _ punishment _ for daring to see his best friend in the first place. Another part of him wondered why his “checking in with Tommy” was taking so long. He knew- He was  _ pretty sure _ Dream wasn’t  _ actually _ talking with Tommy. A shorter wait would have been just as, if nor more, believable than whatever was happening inside.

Maybe coming there alone had been a bad idea.

All he could do was stand there on the porch, the absolute _picture_ of awkwardness, and try in vain to not think about the conversations that had happened earlier that day. Like Fundy saying he needed to talk to Tubbo the second he could, _alone._ Like Quackity asking him questions about his parents. He had done that multiple times the past few days, and... Well, Tubbo wasn't _stupid_ , and he could put two and two together. But still, Quackity was _wrong._ He just _couldn't_ be-

Finally, finally,  _ finally _ Dream returned. He walked briskly, a tension in his steps, and it took Tubbo everything in him not to back away as the door opened and Dream approached him. Dream wasn’t Schlatt. Dream wasn’t Schlatt. Dream wasn’t Schlatt. No matter how  _ scary _ Dream was, he wasn’t going to hit him. There was no need to run.

“I talked to Tommy,” Dream began, like he began every excuse. 

A stone settled in Tubbo’s stomach- the answer was no. It had to be. But he asked anyway. 

“What did... Tommy say?”

“He said you could visit him for a little bit, that he feels well enough for it,” Dream said, tone disapproving and annoyed, but  _ just _ civil enough for Tubbo to feel awkward calling attention to it. “Tommy also said that you could visit him alone, this time, even though he isn’t exactly overjoyed at the prospect.”

_ What. _

Tubbo did not think that was what he would hear, not in a million years. Either Dream really did talk to Tommy, or just got sick of lying. Knowing Dream, from Quackity’s advice, it was probably option number two.

“He did?” Tubbo asked, sounding incredulous despite himself. “Really. So I get to see him?”

“You do,” Dream said, sounding polite with just a tinge of unhappiness and, most likely,  _ rage. _ “For thirty minutes, unless Tommy asks for more time.”

_ And what if he does ask for more time? _ Tubbo wanted to ask. But he didn’t, because he was not suicidal and did not want to make Dream dislike him more than he already did. 

Instead, he said, as enthusiastically as he could manage, “Thank you, Dream! Please, lead the way. Lead the way. I want to see Tommy very badly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do y'all think about the journal entries? Do you like reading them, or do you prefer the chapters without Tommy's thoughts in them? I'd really like to know! ^-^


	21. Losing a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who gave their feedback on the journal entries! It's good to know whether or not a new thing works with the audience or not. ^-^

Dream led the way not reluctantly, but Tubbo could tell from his posture and tone that he was not exactly  _ pleased. _ He supposed he wouldn’t be, because Tubbo kept trying to interrupt whatever it was that Dream was trying to do. It was a longer walk to the room than he expected, but somehow it ended before he could fully prepare his thoughts. What would he even say? Would Dream  _ actually _ leave? He felt like he was walking into an obvious trap.

A trap as obvious as having to decorate one’s own public execution.

“Thirty minutes,” Dream reminded, his tone allowing no room for argument, as he opened the door.

Tubbo walked past him, careful and tense, and into the room. It was a nice room, all things considered. Behind him, the door clicked shut, and footsteps retreated. But he was more focused on the room. Tubbo had not been paying too much attention last time he was there, but he was fairly certain the nearly-empty bookshelf by Tommy’s bed and the wardrobe on the right side of the room, across from the door, were not there when he last paid a visit. Nor was the chair, he didn’t think, but he couldn’t be  _ certain _ on that one.

But he couldn’t stall by looking at the furniture forever.

With no small amount of worry, Tubbo’s eyes landed on Tommy. Tommy, who looked... Fine, for the most part. He was still wearing Dream’s hoodie, with the one sleeve, and he could see the arm underneath. It was mostly healed, which made sense given the healing potions he had been given, but it wasn’t  _ fully _ there, and it was obvious that the burns were going to scar, permanently. Guilt rose in him at that. He shouldn’t have been exiled to  _ get _ hurt like that.

But he looked fine. Fine, all things considered, which was far more surprising than him  _ not _ being fine. He looked... He looked normal, like when he was sick as a kid and forced to be in bed for a few days. He didn’t look held captive, or scared, or- Or  _ anything. _ He looked... Fine.

Tommy was silent, which was odd to see, and  _ glaring _ at him. What was he supposed to say? Tommy had a right to be mad at him. He had a right to not want to see him. Even if it was mostly Dream’s influence, like Quackity said... What could he say,  _ don’t be mad? _

Finally, Tommy broke the silence. “I kept telling Dream to send you away, you know. That  _ was _ me.” His tone was biting. Judgemental.

But it couldn’t be true. It  _ couldn’t _ be true. Dream was- Tommy didn’t even remember him! He- He had a right to be mad at him, but did he really... Did he really  _ never want to see him again? _

“Tommy, I... We’ve all been worried about you,” Tubbo said, though it sounded far more like a plea than he meant it to. “Even Phil has been asking about you, and wants to visit soon! We- We  _ care _ about you, Tommy. We just... We just want to see that you’re okay.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say, because Tommy’s glare increased tenfold in half a second. “Listen, I’ve got  _ enough _ people worrying about me with Dream, okay? He can barely walk out the door without people demanding to see me when I said  _ no, _ or people starting- Starting new wars, or declaring independence, or burning castles... Like, he said  _ I _ was chaotic when I had my memories, right? But whatever is going on out there right now... It sounds a  _ lot _ worse than whatever I did,” he said, decisively. “So what I’m saying is, he’s worrying about me all the time and Dream has to focus on everything  _ but _ me. Maybe if you quit giving him reasons to  _ leave _ all the time, he could take care of all the worrying and no one else would  _ have _ to worry about me!”

Tommy paused.

“Well... Except for Skeppy and Bad.  _ They’re _ allowed to worry, because this is their house.”

That was... That was a whole lot to unpack, actually. He wasn’t really sure where to start with that. But it certainly was... A ramble.

“Okaay...” Tubbo began slowly, nodding. He almost stepped closer to sit in the chair, but he didn’t think that would go as well as he would hope. “So you’re saying you really don’t want anyone to visit you? Not even your father?”

“My father?” Tommy asked. “Which one? I’ve actually been trying to figure that one out, because Wilbur’s dead but Sk- Some people, alright,  _ some people _ think he was actually my dad. I- I supposed  _ you _ would know, wouldn’t you?”

Why did that sound like an accusation?

“Tommy,” Tubbo began, almost  _ desperate _ to see  _ any trace _ of his beloved friend. This was like... A shadow of him, rather than the  _ real _ Tommy. “Tommy, I don’t- I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Is Wilbur my dad or not,  _ boy president, _ it’s not really that hard of a question.”

“Uh- No. No, he wasn’t your dad. He was your adopted brother, and helped raise you. Philza is your adopted dad. He was... Fundy said he was going to visit soon. He- He was very distressed to learn what had happened to you, Tommy. He was. He just found out recently. We- We’re going to bring you home when you’re well, Tommy. No- No  _ house _ is worth you losing all your memories.” 

“If he cares so much, then how come it took him so long to even find out I was hurt? You all knew immediately, but he didn’t?”

“We- Tommy, we were when the accident happened. We couldn’t stop it in time, but we were there. We weren’t telling everyone the second it happened, because we were focused on fixing  _ you. _ We- I almost thought you had  _ died, _ when you fell!”

He shouldn’t be shouting. He absolutely  _ should not _ be shouting. Tommy probably wasn’t ready for that yet, if even a quarter of what Dream said about Tommy’s state was true. But the emotions rushed out of him like a geyser and he couldn’t stop them. All he could do was let the emotions pour out of him and hit Tommy, and wait to see what happened in response.

Tommy frowned, and shook his head. “Okay, fine, but... That doesn’t answer the question. How come he wasn’t told immediately, if he was my dad? How come he didn’t visit the second he was told something happened to me? Why didn’t- Why didn’t he check on me in exile, or live with me? Why didn’t he- Dream said Philza has only been in his lands for a little while. But I’ve been here for years! It doesn’t make sense. It just- It doesn’t make sense, President Whatever Your Name Is.”

The entire outburst was like a vacuum that sucked the air from Tubbo’s lungs. It was hard to pin down what Tommy did and didn’t know. Was it just that he didn’t have context for everything, so only remembered that he knew it when it was relevant? Or was he pretending to know less than he did? Or was Tubbo just overthinking everything, because he needed his best friend back? Because he wanted to believe this was just one of Tommy’s  _ trolls _ and he’s remember him in a moment and everything would be okay?

He couldn’t- He didn’t even know how to  _ respond. _

So he just said, voice weak, “Tubbo. My name is- My name is Tubbo. I’m... I’m your best friend.”

Tommy’s laugh was cold and  _ cruel, _ cutting into his soul in a way nothing else could. Not even Schlatt, not even  _ Quackity _ or  _ Phil... _ No one could hurt him more than that laugh did.

“You really aren’t,” Tommy replied, a cruel kind of smirk on his lips as he bit the end of the pen in his hand. “Maybe you were, once, but I have no reason to trust you. I don’t even  _ know _ you. You’re just some guy that keeps demanding to be in my house and then threatening to like, I don’t even know, accuse my guardians of  _ kidnapping _ me instead of taking, I don’t know, a  _ no _ for an answer.”

Was this how it felt when someone’s heart broke?

He. He knew Tommy hadn’t really wanted to see him, in exile. He knew that Tommy didn’t really remember him, after his exile. But for him to say, without a hint of hesitation or irony, that Tubbo wasn’t his friend? That he was just some... Some stranger? It wasn’t just crushing.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. The world was tunneling around him. He had messed up. This was- Tommy was- Tommy was his friend, he  _ had to be his friend- _ But he wasn’t.

He wasn’t at all, and there was no one Tubbo coild blame but himself.

Before he knew it, Tubbo was out of the room and dashing down the stairs, turning sharply left in the kitchen and dashing past a Dream who had the  _ audacity _ to look surprised.

_ <Tubbo whispered to Quackity.> _

_ Tubbo: dabcan you co memeet me pleaz _

* * *

_ What I Know About ME: Written by TommyInnit (Page 4) _

_ -Dream told me about that Quackity guy burning Eret’s castle. I don’t- Dream said I don’t like Eret and he can’t tell me why but that whatever happened will never happen again _

_ -I don’t get it _

_ -But I don’t think Quackity is a good person... But he’s very close with the boy president.  _

_ -the president boy visited today. Tubbo _

_ -he said that wilbur *was* my brother (he’s the dead one) and that philza is my adopted father _

_ -dream has said that he has never seen philza interact with me *ever* outside of that one time he visited me during exile. That’s how he found out we even knew each other, i think. I remember that conversation happening, but not today. I must have forgotten to write it down _

_ -Tubbo said that everyone was worried about me and Phil was gonna visit _

_ -but if everyone was so worried, why has no one visited me? Dream said that they’ve asked to, but the second he said he would be there because I *wanted* him to, they all decided to not visit _

_ -they can’t really be *that* worried if that’s how they act _

_ -i don’t like seeing tubbo cry or be upset. i dunno, it just feels bad. but also, he’s kinda mean, pushing dream around like that and yelling at me for things that aren’t even my fault _

_ -i wonder how i even became *friends* with him, if that’s how he acts all the time _

_ -I usually try not to write in the book too much, I don’t want to crowd everything. And Dream gets curious when i write a lot. Not that there’s anything wrong with being curious, but you know _

_ -He worries and gets a bit Intense sometimes _

_ -I think... I think I remembered something, but it was like, a whole bunch of memories at once. Of like, people sitting at the foot of my bed, and I was like, sick or something? _

_ -I don’t know the context and it’s just, flashes of people. Green, but not Dream’s Green. Dark Red. Pink. Mostly just colors, right? But they were people, on the foot of my bed. It was weird _

_ -It probably doesn’t even mean anything. I have a lot of flashes like that. They’re probably just dumb shit my mind made up _

_ -It’s stupid, but I feel bad for making Tubbo run away. Like I did something bad _

_ -I thought I felt up to trying to walk outside earlier today, but... I don’t think I’m up to it anymore _

_ -I think I’m just going to sleep _

_ -Dream said I need the rest, anyway _

* * *

Skeppy had spent the entire day with Bad in the Nether. He’d suggested it to Skeppy with nothing short of desperation, if he was being honest, with a flimsy excuse he didn’t remember anymore. Did he say he was missing home? This chunk of Nether was nowhere  _ near _ where his home was. Even if it was in the general territory... The portals didn’t open into Demon communities, and those that did got destroyed, along with their creators. Or, in a more peaceful situation, the Demons just immediately relocated. So walking through their Nether portal, practically  _ dragging _ Skeppy with him... It wouldn’t make sense for that to be his excuse.

But he didn’t know what else he could have said. He hadn’t even been paying attention when he said it, the words falling off his lips with little difficulty or hesitation.

He should feel guilty about that.

All he had known, when he dragged Skeppy through the veil of purple and into a lava-covered wonderland he found far too familiar to call it anything but Home, was that he could  _ not _ be in the Overworld. Not on that day. Not on the Third Day of the deal. Not that day, of all days. 

Because the Egg was calling to him. He had seen Skeppy’s sandwich barrier,  _ felt _ the Egg’s displeasure over it. It did help, to a degree. But some part of him knew that there wasn’t enough obsidian to hold it off for long. It was still able to call to him, its vines were still coiled around his mind. His  _ heart. _

It sand him siren songs of Skeppy and Bad helping the Egg together, of not needing to fight about the Egg again because they both agreed about it, of using the Egg to  _ fix _ their relationship... But he knew that if Skeppy got close to the Egg, it would destroy him. Not eat him, that would Hurt It. But find a way to destroy him. Either his mind, with its songs, or his heart, with the words of Badboyhalo himself.

The urge to go to the Egg was too strong. He couldn’t dare let himself stay near it. So they were in the Nether, wandering around with careful steps, wary but comfortable. He knew Skeppy was nervous. Knew Skeppy was suspicious. But also knew that, if he brought it up, it would look like Bad was accusing Skeppy of not trusting him. He  _ didn’t _ think Skeppy trusted him, but it wasn’t an insult. It was a good thing- one of the best things ever.

If Skeppy didn’t trust him alone, then he couldn’t walk away and let Bad walk right back to the Egg that was using and destroying him.

As much as it killed him, it was better for the both of them if Skeppy put a layer of distrust between them.

But the layer of  _ silence _ Skeppy had also put up, after being pulled into the Nether by a shaking Bad, might  _ actually _ kill him. He never did well with his partner ignoring him, even for good reasons. A fact that was... Unfortunately highlighted after the battery incident. So every second that went by without Skeppy talking made him anxious, made him want to yell for an answer, grab Skeppy and shake him, just- Just do  _ something. _

Instead of doing any of those things, he stayed quiet. Let Skeppy take his time. He was clearly thinking, gaze fixated on the horizon outside of the little cave they’d dug themselves in the Netherite. (It was kind of nostalgic, actually.)

Finally, finally,  _ finally, _ Skeppy broke the silence. Bad loved Skeppy talking in general, but his words made the presence of the Egg die down, as well. So it was an added bonus.

“Are you okay, Bad? Usually, you’re nagging for my attention after five seconds of not talking. Did I... Do something?” The flash of insecurity that rose in his voice made Bad almost sick-  _ That wasn’t what he wanted. _

“No! No, Skeppy, no, you didn’t do anything,” Bad rushed, desperate to soothe. His hand landed on Skeppy’s arm and he scooted closer, not bearing to have any space between them when his partner was worried about his potential anger. “No, I was just... Trying to give you space. I know I rush you into speaking, sometimes. You can’t always say whatever you’re thinking all the time. I... I know I need to give you time.”

“Oh.” Skeppy blinked,  _ surprised _ that Bad was trying. And  _ damn, _ if that didn’t say something about their relationship that he was startled by something that should have been so simple. “I... Thanks, Bad. I appreciate it. I wasn’t upset, though. I was just thinking. Honestly, I was thinking about something pretty stupid. You pulling me into the portal and not talking just... I dunno, confused me enough that I kept thinking and forgot to actually start a conversation.”

“That’s okay, Skeppy,” Bad soothed. “Do you... Want to tell me what you were thinking about?”

“It- It really was stupid,” Skeppy said with a laugh, shaking his head. The light of the lava sparkled off the diamonds in his skin, and it was  _ beautiful. _ (He always was.) “I just... I don’t know. Parenting, right? We’re taking on this- Well, I’d  _ say _ we were taking on a second kid, but Dream’s basically never left his side. He was talking like we’d be his guardians, but Dream can’t stand leaving for more than a few hours, needs constant reassurance that nothing happened to Tommy and that he isn’t upset or something. And I don’t know, thinking about that just made me think about... Parenting in general. Our role as parents. What we teach our kids and what they take away from us.”

Bad leaned forward with interest, staring intently at his partner’s (adorable) face. “What exactly were you thinking about, Geppy? Like, how we raised Dream when he was a kid? That isn’t stupid.”

Skeppy huffed a half-laugh and looked away, hiding his face. Which was unfortunate, because Bad  _ quite liked _ looking at it. 

“No, no, it’s... It’s stupid,” Skeppy repeated. Bad was getting tired of hearing that. When did he convince Skeppy his thoughts were stupid?! “I just... Don’t make fun of me,” he added, as if that was a real possibility.

“I won’t! I won’t, Skeppy. I promise. I’ll swear on anything you want.”

“You don’t need to do that, Bad. Just... I don’t know, I was thinking about that argument we had, when Dream was young, about who would be called what, and I just... I know that there were a million masculine things I could have been called without there being a need for you to not go by Dad. But I... I don’t know. I was just thinking.”

“You... You don’t have to say... If you don’t want to...” Bad said, trying to be supportive, even as the curiosity gnawed away at his insides.

“I just- It’s been  _ many years! _ More than twenty, because Dream didn’t age at the same rate as other kids! It’s been too long to change it, make him call me something other than my name. It’s stupid, and he thinks it pisses me off, anyway. And it definitely isn’t the most important  _ any of us _ need to worry about right now.”

Bad, against his better judgement, took a gamble. Stayed quiet, and let Skeppy breathe, take that moment to himself.

“Bad, do you think it would be dumb if, if Tommy ever started calling us parental names like Dream does... Do you think it would be dumb to tell him he could call me Mom?”

* * *

Niki was glad, for the first time in her life, that her home wasn’t in the End. Entering that realm without the grace of Dream would make things... Unpleasant.

And she  _ did _ need to go home. Family emergencies were no laughing matter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize sincerely to Tubbo fans for this chapter, this must have hurt a bit- :") Oops. Angst lord has gotta angst, unfortunately...
> 
> Speaking of angst, I hope people worried that the section about Skeppy and Bad would end badly were a bit relieved? I know Skeppy's parent-title crisis isn't the most _important_ thing to worry about right now, but, well... Worrying waits for no man XD


	22. Crises and the Desire to Fight God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was almost longer... I think my chapters have just been increasing in length, whether I intend them to or not XD

Needless to say, Bad was a bit surprised to hear Skeppy’s question. He truly believed that Skeppy didn’t ever want to be called mom, even if he was the one more comfortable embracing his “feminine” side out of the two of them. In fact, he had been certain Skeppy wasn’t okay with  _ either _ of them being the “mom”. They had had so many arguments about it, Bad mostly teasing but Skeppy clearly taking it a bit more seriously, that it had become a staple part of their bickering for a number of years. So he thought Skeppy genuinely would  _ never _ want to be referred to like that.

However, if that was what Skeppy wanted, he was more than supportive. If that felt  _ right, _ then Bad thought it was a great idea. But he didn’t get the chance to say so, because Skeppy rushed to backpedal, filling in Bad’s answer in his mind before he could even try to respond.

“Forget it. It was stupid. Very dumb.”

“Skeppy-” 

“I shouldn’t need to be called  _ Mom _ to feel valued for my role here, even when I’m usually the one home. I- It reinforces shitty gender roles and like- and like- stereotypes about relationships like ours, anyway, and I don’t want to do that. It- It’s dumb.”

“Skeppy-”

“No, no- It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. We settled that we wouldn’t use the term mom  _ years and years _ ago. It was stupid for me to even mention it. I’ll just... Look up a masculine term in the library or something. That was stupid. Forget I even said anythi-”

“ **_Skeppy!_ ** ”

“And I shouldn’t need to be called Mom to like, get more  _ credit _ or anything, that’s kind of shitty, right? I- What?”

_ Finally, _ he was listening. Bad hated having to call Skeppy so many times, just to get him to listen. It was understandable, because he was panicking, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

“Geppy,” Bad said, firm but not unkind. Gently, he took Skeppy’s chin and rotated it so that their eyes met. “If you want Tommy to call you Mom, he can call you Mom. If you want  _ Dream _ to call you Mom, he’ll call you Mom. You don’t have to feel  _ bad _ about wanting that.”

Predictably, Skeppy chuckled. “I don’t have to feel  _ bad _ about it, Bad?” he teased, with a shadow of his usual grin. 

Progress was progress.

“You know what I mean, Skeppy!” he laughed, nowhere near annoyed, as much as he playfully glared and gently shoved his shoulder. But soon, he lets himself be more serious, although still fond and open. “I just mean that you can change your mind about what you want to be called, even if we’ve fought about it before. I want  _ you _ to be happy.”

“I-” Skeppy sighed and, once again, looked away. A pang of pain shot through Bad’s heart- he liked seeing Skeppy’s face, all his emotions, but he had started hiding those emotions more and more. It was hard to watch. 

There was a moment of silence that Bad did not dare break, waiting for his partner to collect his thoughts.

“You know,” Skeppy said with a breathy laugh, “when we first got Dream, and you said that you would be Dad, then said you should be Mom because you should get more credit as a parent...”

_ Oh muffin, Bad absolutely  _ **_had_ ** _ said that. _

“I almost punched you in the face for that,” Skeppy admitted, giving another half-laugh. “Now, whenever I think about being called Mom, I think about that conversation, right? I don’t want it to seem like I’m demanding more credit than you, or whatever. I think I would have- Do you remember back then, how everything was a competition between us?”

How could he forget? Skeppy threatened to move out many times, saying that they weren’t working out and pointing out legitimate problems ~~which he ignored like he always did~~ during that time, and Bad always lived in fear for the time that Skeppy would actually end things. It led up to... Multiple incidents. 

“I remember,” Bad said, voice solemn. “We really had to use every excuse to fight each other, huh?”

“Yeah,” Skeppy laughed, sounding far more genuine that time. “Listen, I... I think it might be better to just forget I even asked. If we bring that back, then what other things will we bring back from the past? We already brought back leaving and making the kid choose sides, which is just fucked up. I just, I won’t want everything to turn into a competition again, to make me being the “mom” into some sort of status symbol. I don’t want just... Dream’s Childhood: The Rerun.”

Personally, Bad did not see wanting to be called mom as a gateway to reliving Dream’s entire childhood. Or, at least, the bad parts of it. He saw it as improvement. But he knew that Skeppy, even though he didn’t talk about it, didn’t think highly of himself as a parent, and was always terrified of repeating his previous mistakes. Some part of him, instinctually, wanted to tell Skeppy he was being silly, that obviously one didn’t mean the other.

But that type of response was why Skeppy believed that his emotions were stupid in the first place, right? So he bit back his instinct and chose a more carefully-worded response.

“I think...” Bad began, making sure not to rush into his response when he could take his time. “I think that what matters here is what you like being called, not necessarily what you wanted to be called when Dream was five. He’s an adult now and, even if he wasn’t, this is  _ your _ choice.” 

He paused to give Skeppy time to respond, but he merely nodded, motioning for him to continue.

“You can offer the option to Dream and Tommy, if you want,” Bad offered, “and let them choose if they’re comfortable with that, but at the end of the day... I truly think it should be  _ your _ choice. And using a typically-feminine title for yourself doesn’t make yourself any less of a  _ man, _ obviously, and it doesn’t mean that you’re embracing stereotypes. I mean yeah, you stay home a lot, but... The moment you want that to change, we can change it. We should only have the dynamic that makes  _ us happy, _ okay?” 

Skeppy did not speak still, which was distressing, but he did answer with a nod.

“And as for stereotypes... Skeppy, I’m an aromantic demon from the Nether who identifies with the male gender, and you’re a queer um... Diamond-person who identifies as male but that isn’t really... The traditional male human body doesn’t really  _ apply _ to your kind, from as far as we can tell, and you aren’t even  _ remotely human. _ We’ve been in a non-romantic marriage for at least a century, have raised a  _ literal god-child together, _ and currently live in a mansion overrun by an evil egg that spawns vines everywhere. I wouldn’t exactly say we’re  _ normal _ or live  _ stereotypical lives, _ Skeppy.”

That, at least, earned Bad a laugh.

“Yeah,” Skeppy finally said. “I get it. I don’t know- My head has just been really full lately. I guess I’m just... Focused on this, so I don’t have to focus on other things. Even though there are things we should  _ really be focusing on _ right now. And I don’t mean- And I don’t mean just the wedding.”

For some reason, all Bad could think about was how funny it was that Skeppy used to, so often, accuse him of deflection when, in that moment, Skeppy had admitted to deflecting his worries and thoughts onto a much more inconsequential worry.

Then he realized that thought was  _ extraordinarily petty, _ and put it away.

“Yeah, there are a lot of things that we probably should be worrying about,” Bad agreed. “But it’s okay to focus on the little issues first, sometimes. We can’t always be tackling mountains. Sometimes we have to focus on dismantling just one block at a time.”

Skeppy’s head landed on his shoulder with a dull  _ thud. _

“I guess you’re right, Bad. But also... We  _ should _ be tackling those mountains.” Before Bad could respond, Skeppy dove into a worried ramble. “Today is the third day, Bad. This is... Should I remove the barrier to the basement, tomorrow morning? Should I let you see the Egg again? What about the others? The effect has weakened, but it hasn’t gone  _ away. _ They will return to the Egg the second they can. I know you are still affected by it, even as you try to fight it. It wants  _ you, _ specifically, right? So it will keep pulling you to it until you become its mindless puppet again. What then?”

Skeppy continued on, not waiting for a response. Bad had a feeling that, right then, he was  _ venting _ rather than asking advice. It took him 65 years to learn about that, but he made sure to respect that need now.

  
“And what about Dream? The second Tommy got hurt, he didn’t know what to do with himself. I think that, honestly, he saw Tommy as this... This fated rival, or something, and built up these huge battles between them, only to suddenly remember that Tommy is a  _ kid. _ And now he’s overcompensating with overprotectiveness. He won’t let anyone visit if he isn’t in the room, and he worries himself to death about the possibility of Tommy just  _ leaving his room. _ Is Dream even coping with this? I haven’t seen him properly relax or be  _ Dream _ since the accident. It’s been a week, and he’s still on crisis mode. It- He’s going to get himself hurt. Or he’s going to smother Tommy in his efforts to make up for the wrong he’s done.”

Silently, Bad swore it would not happen like that. He would help Dream. Even if only to keep himself distracted from the Egg, he would help Dream with Tommy, and with learning how to  _ treat _ Tommy. Help him let Tommy outside, let Tommy make his own choices... He couldn’t let Dream repeat their mistakes and either stifle his brother too much or let him run too wild.

“Besides, speaking of Dream... What if they  _ are _ brothers, Bad? What then? What happens if it turns out that Dream murdered his younger brother twice? Stole  _ two _ of his three canon lives? He has only one fateful death left. I think that, with the way things are going, Dream might actually put Tommy in a guarded obsidian tower and never wear armor or carry weapons around him again, if it turns out they  _ are _ brothers, because he never knows how to properly fix his mistakes. He goes overboard, like you.”

Like  _ him? _ Maybe Skeppy’s mirror was broken, and Bad should get him a new one. But he didn’t say that, because he knows how  _ not _ to make everything worse. Usually.

“But I know you need to always be right, and will try to find proof when you think you  _ are _ right, so we’re going to have to prove whether they are, at some point, right? What do we even- What do we even  _ do _ in that case? Someone is going to have to stop Dream from like, hiding his brother away for his own safety.”

“Dream wouldn’t- Wait,” Bad realized, “he already did that  _ without _ thinking they were related. He would- He actually  _ would _ do that.”

“Yes, exactly!”

“Okay, I understand why you’re worried about that. I think there are a lot of things that we need to worry about, but for now, let’s just focus on what we should do if Dream...  _ happens _ to end up believing he and Tommy are brothers. We need some back-up plans.”

All things considered, Skeppy’s crisis and the Dream concerns helped wipe most thoughts of the Egg from Bad’s mind. Why would he care about a plant in the Overworld when the center of his world was in the Nether with him, and needed  _ his _ help?

* * *

_ <Tubbo whispered to Quackity.> _

_ Tubbo: dabcan you co memeet me pleaz _

Quackity had just started his lunch break, accompanied by Fundy but not by Tubbo for the obvious reason, when he got the message. The kid ~~president. the~~ ~~_ president _ ~~ had left for Tommy’s only a little while before, barely even a few hours, so the panicked -or at least, probably panicked- message caught him off guard. Tubbo was  _ absolutely _ supposed to be busy until later that afternoon, all things considered.

Noticing his concerned face, Fundy shot him a questioning look. “Is everything alright, Quackity?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Quackity assured, although not quite believing himself, as he typed out a response. He needed to make sure Tubbo was safe. That was priority one. “Tubbo’s just upset over something.”

_ <Quackity whispered to Tubbo.> _

_ Quackity: yeah i can do that, twobo, no worries _

_ Quackity: where are you right now? are you okay? i need details, kiddo _

_ Tubbo: im headed to lmanberg _

_ Tubbo: i dont feel to well, i cant breathe _

_ Tubbo: big Q can u pls com e get me _

_ Tubbo: uim by eret’s castle _

_ Tubbo:abt to walk into lmaenbeurg _

_ Quackity: okay kiddo i’ve got you, okay? Just get into manburg and sit down in the open. Focus on breathing for me, okay? just focus on breathing, in and out _

_ Quackity: i’ve got you, i promise _

When Quackity found Tubbo, fully hyperventilating on the sidewalk, tears streaming down his face and arms wrapped around his knees like he needed to cling to something to survive, he remembered that he wasn’t just some soft vice-president that took shit from anyone. He was Quackity ~~Schlatt~~ , Vice President of ~~Manburg~~ L’Manburg, the biggest organized nation in the Dream Lands, anger in his veins and stubbornness in his spine.

In short, he was going to find the green bastard that caused Tubbo to break down like that, and  _ fucking fight God. _

* * *

Fundy was concerned when Dream sent him the message about Tubbo running away in quite a state, and mentioned Tommy’s talk about not being friends with this boy who, in his mind, he didn’t even know. He absolutely wasn’t surprised. Dream saw him, from what he said, as the only brain cell in the L’Manburg cabinet, and so he was the most likely candidate to know how to deal with things correctly. Which was the right assumption. Unfortunately, however, Tubbo had summoned Quackity to his side. Overall, in any situation, a rather bad move.

But it was even worse, in this case, because Quackity overcompensated about how he acted with Schlatt by being overprotective of the kid that (in all honesty) stole Quackity’s presidency.

In short... Fundy had to run after the Vice President  _ very quickly _ and find him and Tubbo  _ fast, _ because if he didn’t...  _ Quackity would fight God. _

* * *

Tubbo was consumed by his panic, his guilt, and his pain, only remembering to breathe because Quackity messaged him to, only remembering to sit down because Quackity said he  _ had _ to. He was a bad president. A bad friend. A bad son, probably, that’s why Phil barely talked to him, even  _ before _ the formation of the Butcher Army. Why Schlatt treated him the way he did. No matter what he did, he was probably bad at it, if it wasn’t Redstone.

He should just- Just disappear, and focus on Redstone, maybe?

But then he heard a familiar voice, and his vision was covered in blue, because there was  _ Quackity _ kneeling in front of him. Soothing, helpful, uncurling him from his panic ball and shifting him into a hug. Whispering reassurances into his ear, praises for trying his best. Promises to fight God for making him cry. Whispers of praise, that at least he tried, and it was  _ okay _ to cry. Offers to help bring him home, so he wasn’t sobbing in public anymore.

All helpful, comforting things. And Tubbo found himself melting into Quackity’s hug, letting himself pretend, just for a small moment, that there was an adult out there that actually wanted him  _ safe. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely Unrelated: Anyone who finds Schlatt and Quackity's dynamic angsty/fascinating, try listening to Caylee Hammack's song _Small Town Hypocrite_. It's really good and will spark some Feelings, probably
> 
>  **But anyway...**  
>  I dunno, I just like... I just like writing characters having parental/life crises...


	23. Right Intentions, Wrong Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter, but I hope it's alright! I also hope all of you have a great night or whatever time of day you read this.
> 
> General Check! Have you had your food and water today? What about meds, if you take them? Do you need something for an important event/appointment/etc soon? If so, do you know where it is?
> 
> And if it's late... Please get some sleep before you read this! It's okay to prioritize your health over my fanfiction ^-^

Fundy counted himself lucky, he really did. With Tubbo in the state he was, it wasn’t hard to convince Quackity to bring the kid home, make him hot chocolate and show him pictures of bees until he was ready to talk about it. All things that did not involve punching Dream into the next century. Which was amazing. And absolutely progress.

Schlatt was, surprisingly to everyone else,  _ all _ of Quackity’s impulse control. Without him to shoot down anything and everything the Vice President wanted, he had a tendency to do whatever he wanted,  _ whenever _ he wanted,  **_however_ ** he wanted. Hello, barely-legal creation of El Rapids.

So, even though he had not visited Tommy today, or talked more with Phil or Technoblade, or had an actual meal, or finished the paperwork... He felt accomplished.

His life may be a mess, but at least Quackity fell asleep without trying to fight  _ God. _

* * *

Ever since Tubbo had left, Tommy had slept. Slept the entire afternoon, almost all night, and a chunk of the next morning. Every time he woke up, he shut his eyes again, as if he no longer wanted to be awake. As if he no longer wanted to experience the world.

After leaving Tommy to nap yet  _ again _ , after making sure the poor kid at  _ least _ got some breakfast in him, Dream stood in the kitchen, almost out of his  _ mind _ with worry. Desperate, worried, he  _ scrambled _ to think of what to do. Technoblade has asked to bring Phil with him to visit, soon, and he’d agreed. Should he do it soon, should he bring Technoblade over for Tommy? It might spark some memories in Tommy, which was both a good and bad thought. Tommy had, before the war,  _ idolized _ Technoblade, thought he was  _ so cool, _ perhaps a visit from him would lift his mood. Even if he didn’t remember, he might remember those good feelings from seeing him.

Or he might just be happy that such a cool warrior went out of his way to talk to him.

But he would bring  _ Phil. _ Phil, who seemed to forget that Tommy ever existed, Phil who seemed to claim Tommy as his son, but apparently let Wilbur raise him  _ all on his own. _ Who had only visited Tommy in exile once, had never cared for the kid during the  _ three years _ of war and conflict and pain he had to deal with.

Tommy would not be able to handle a visit from Phil.

There was  _ absolutely no fucking way _ Tommy would be able to handle a visit from Phil. A single argument with Tubbo sent him into over a  _ day _ of shutting down, refusing to talk to Skeppy or bad,  _ exclusively _ talking to Dream, and even then only managing a few sentences before he had to sleep again. It wasn’t just the injuries, the physical ones, it was the mental strain of it all that had taken a toll on him. He was hurting, he was in pain, he was  _ shutting everyone out _ and Dream did not know what to do. Except to blame himself.

Why did he think that letting someone visit Tommy would  _ help?  _ He wasn’t even ready to go  _ outside _ yet, much less deal with a group of people that were, to Tommy,  _ complete strangers. _

He should never have allowed visitors this early. It wasn’t safe. Look at Tommy, barely able to talk to Dream when, just two days before, he could talk for  _ hours? _

It was his fault for allowing the people who betrayed and hurt Tommy to waltz right back into his life. That was on  _ Dream, _ no one else. And it was up to Dream to fix it.

He had to bring Tommy somewhere safe, as  _ soon as possible. _

Somewhere he wouldn’t have people forcing their way into his room just to break down and send him into another shut down. Somewhere where he didn’t have to worry about Tommy being attacked by vines- Even though the vines were gone, and the sandwich barrier had not been removed, there was still a risk. Too big a risk.

This was Dream’s fault. He fucked it up. He fucked everything up. The exile was supposed to teach Tommy a  _ lesson _ and  _ protect him, _ but he fucked it up. Tommy got hurt. The first visit from Tubbo was supposed to happen later, but he forgot he had told them to come the next day. And Tommy got hurt. He allowed Tubbo to visit  _ again, _ despite  _ knowing _ what had happened last time... And Tommy. Got. Hurt.

Clearly, he had to take Tommy somewhere far away, where no one else would be able to find them before Tommy was ready to see them, and have him recover there. That was the only logical option. The only way Dream wouldn’t fuck it up again.

Behind him, the door opened, but he didn’t notice until it was already too late to implement his relocation plan.

* * *

Neither Skeppy nor Bad expected to see their child having a complete breakdown in their kitchen, hands on either side of his head as his breathing went faster than the speed of light, but there he was. All plans to mess with the obsidian sandwich were postponed in favor of parental worry. This was their kid. This was  _ their kid. _ This was  _ his _ kid.

Skeppy stepped forward, Bad right behind him, and placed a gentle hand on Dream’s left shoulder, all the while making sure he was in some way in the line of Dream’s sight. Thankfully, for all of them, the touch didn’t freak him out. In fact, he leaned into it, taking in a deep, shuddering breath.

“Mom?” he asked, all wavering voice and confused tone of a kid that got too deep and now was in over his head. All  _ needing advice _ and  _ trying so hard but still not hitting the mark. _

Skeppy  _ melted. _ He  _ melted. _ What else could he do? Dream  _ never _ called him that, for the obvious reasons. Not unless he really, really,  _ really _ needed Skeppy.

“Hey, Dream,” he said, all soothing kindness, all love and support, all wise advice (despite usually not knowing what the fuck he was doing). “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. We’re here, Dream. We’re here. I have you, Dream. You can breathe now, it’s alright.”

“We’re here, Dream,” Bad echoed, keeping his distance not out of lack of care, but out of appreciation for his kid’s space. “Why don’t you tell us what’s wrong?”

“I need to take Tommy away from here and put him somewhere safe,” Dream said, matter-of-fact. 

Skeppy felt his stomach drop. Seriously? He couldn’t wait a  _ day?! _ They’d just made their back-up plans! 

Fuck, he really was a speedrunner...

“Alright,” Bad said, careful but not secretly-judgmental, which was a tone Skeppy knew he used a lot, unintentionally. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about that, okay, Dream? Tell us why you feel that way. We’ll listen, we promise.”

To their immense relief, Dream nodded, and let himself be led to the kitchen table. Skeppy was mostly just relieved that they had gotten there before he actually had tried to  _ do _ it. The last attempt to isolate Tommy didn’t go...  _ Well, _ after all.

“I keep messing up with Tommy,” Dream began. “There are too many variables, and he keeps getting hurt. I need to take him away, in order to make the other variables go away. I can only focus on so many changing situations at once. I need him to be somewhere safe that I control.”

Skeppy felt himself take a deep breath. He knew that he could convince Dream that the house was probably safe, if given a moment. But the control part, that was something a little harder to help him with. Poor kid had had that issue since he was  _ young. _ But... He would try.

“Alright,” Skeppy said, deciding not to start the conversation out by shutting down Dream’s feelings, “we can start there. What makes the place unsafe?”


	24. In Which A Child Is Not Relocated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **As a heads up:** Ya boi is now employed! So I don't know how feasible daily updates will be. But I am not giving up on this story! At all! It just might have a few days between updates now.
> 
>  **ALSO: CONTENT WARNING**  
>  There is some minor references/implications to miscarriage/child dying before birth, in the last section of this chapter  
> Please stay safe and avoid that section if that would be an issue for you!

“There are too many variables,” Dream explained, sounding as if he truly was one step away from grabbing Tommy and bolting into the next dimension. “And... He keeps getting hurt. I need to take him away, in order to make the other variables go away. I can only focus on so many changing situations at once. I need him to be somewhere safe that I control.”

In all honesty, Bad wasn’t _surprised_ they had to have this conversation so soon after preparing for it _._ The second they had gotten the message, the day before, about Tubbo breaking down and Tommy _shutting_ down, he assumed something like this was going to happen soon. Did he expect it to be at 11 am on a Tuesday, the day after that meeting went to muffins? Not really. But he _did_ expect it to happen. So, in a way, he was a bit more prepared than Skeppy, who had a _heart-melting_ amount of faith in Dream’s ability not to run head-first into things that he thinks will _probably_ work.

(But it was cute. It really was cute, how he and Skeppy misjudged Dream in different ways, and together they could create a more balanced picture. Like a jigsaw.)

“Alright,” Skeppy began, from beside Bad, “we can start there. What makes the place unsafe?”

Well, there were the Obvious reasons, which Bad had on the tip of his tongue, but he knew the question wasn’t for him, so he stayed quiet. Like they talked about. They needed to give Dream a space to air out his emotions _first,_ so he could process them and he on the same page, before they provided their own insights. Give him time.

“People know where he is,” Dream began, “and they can get to him easily. Logsteadshire was better, because it was _harder_ to get to him. Less people visited him, so he was kept safe from the bad influences. From the people that didn’t care or just wanted to hurt him. Exile was _safe,_ it kept him _away_ from everyone else. But people can travel easily to the Badlands. Bad people. _Inconvenient_ people... They can all just waltz in whenever they want and talk to Tommy and make him shut down again. It isn’t safe to have him somewhere known and accessible.”

Bad loved his son. Loved him _so much,_ so _so_ much, would do _so_ much for him. But...

Loving Dream didn’t mean he would just allow him to isolate his little brother in an unknown location.

Thankfully, Skeppy stepped in before his cutting words could burst out and make Dream double-down on his plan. “So the issue is the lack of control when it comes to who is able to visit Tommy,” he said, voice calm, nothing in his tone to trigger defiance or anger. “Is that right?”

Thank _goodness_ for Skeppy and his ability to see what Dream _wasn’t_ saying. 

Dream nodded, not speaking, and let himself lean into the hug that Skeppy, so gently, pulled him into. The silence didn’t worry Bad at all. He was probably just thinking, processing what he was told, and filing it away somewhere in that genius brain of his. 

After a moment, Dream said, “Yeah, that sounds about right. I- I don’t like that people _know where he is._ But... The main reason for my objections is actually... Because I can’t control it, yeah. I don’t want people to keep hurting Tommy.”

“It’s good to not want Tommy hurt,” Bad praised, chiming in. That seemed to make Dream perk up, which was good. A little encouragement to keep him on the right path. “But isolating him might also hurt him. Exile hit him hard, right? What if, instead of taking him away from everyone again, we found another way?”

“What other _way,_ Dad?” Dream snapped from the comfort of his young, all but whining his objection. 

Bad knew Dream didn’t _need_ to sleep, but he made mental plans to get him another bed set up, anyway. It might help him, even though he didn’t _need_ it. The whining sounded just like when he was a kid, having stayed up past his bedtime. Even extra-durable gods could benefit from some sleep, at some points.

Unfortunately, Bad’s thoughts about getting Dream into an _actual bed_ instead of sleeping on the chair in Tommy’s room made him zone out and he had completely forgotten to respond to the question. He looked up to find both Skeppy and Dream looking at him, similarly concerned.

“Bad?” Skeppy prompted.

“Oh! Muffin, I’m sorry guys,” he said, trying to laugh it off. “I got distracted. I’m not saying we can’t move Tommy, if you feel that is safer, or that you can’t try and protect Tommy. But what if we have specific visiting hours and people have to schedule a visit, instead of people barging in whenever? That way, we will always know who is visiting, and when.”

“A schedule could work,” Skeppy agreed. “What do you think, Dream? Would an enforceable schedule work? We could tell everyone in the Badlands about the schedule and make sure they know who’s allowed to visit when, so we can enforce it, even when you’re not here.”

* * *

Now, here was the thing. Skeppy was right. Dream _knew_ Skeppy was right. And, unlike when _Bad_ was right, it didn’t make him want to scream into the void. (He still loved Bad very much, that was not the point.) That did not mean, however, that he particularly _desired_ for Skeppy to _be_ correct at that time. Well, Bad was also right, because it was _his_ idea, but _Skeppy_ supported it, so.

Still.

“A schedule... Could work...” Dream said, slowly, each word forced out of his mouth. He didn’t _want_ a schedule. He wanted to do what he had done since the beginning of Tommy’s exile.

What he _wanted_ was to take Tommy and keep him far, far away from those assholes he called “friends”, who couldn’t protect or care about him like he deserved, would only get him hurt in the long run. ~~like he wasn’t just as likely to hurt him, failure that he was? Pathetic.~~

But somehow, he didn’t think he would get away with that as easily this time. Especially given that, well, the previous exile attempt went... Poorly at best...

Because _listen._ Listen! He knew that, despite his _best intentions,_ the exile hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped. The _intention_ was for Tommy to have a place to act out without hurting anyone, and to learn his actions had consequences. That was the intent. It didn’t go well, so obviously his parents weren’t too keen on a rerun. 

_But still._

He _wanted_ it.

“I take it you aren’t a big fan of the schedule plan,” Skeppy said, cutting in through his wall of thoughts. “That’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

Never had Skeppy been _impatient_ with him, when it came to things like this, because Skeppy _got him_ like nobody else. However, he had also never been _this_ patient with him. Some part of him was suspicious of that. Was there a plan he didn’t know about? Some _angle?_ Some troll??

But he dismissed the thoughts and fought to answer. After all, he _trusted_ Skeppy. More than he trusted George and, sometimes, _Sapnap._ After all, Skeppy was his mom- Parent. Skeppy was his **_parent._ **

“I don’t know how to explain why I don’t like the plan without sounding like a pouting child,” Dream began. His hand slipped under his mask to the second face below and rubbed at the place between his eyes. God, his head hurt. “I just don’t feel that’s _secure_ enough. I feel bad that any of this happened to Tommy at all, so it’s my responsibility to make sure that it never happens again. I don’t think this plan will be as efficient for doing that.” 

Footsteps rang out from the staircase upstairs and Dream froze. He saw his parents freeze as well. He turned to face the sound, words already prepared on his tongue.

_Tommy._

“Wait,” Tommy said, groggy, one hand rubbing at his eyes. “What plan are we talkin’ about?”

Shit.

* * *

“Listen, Phil,” Technoblade said, trying to use a kind tone for his oldest friend, but somehow still just sounding _worried._ “It’s not that I don’t _appreciate_ your plan, okay? But I don’t think that whatever’s going on is as simple as _oh, Dream kidnapped Tommy._ You got that message from Fundy, right? That Dream let Tubbo see Tommy? That’s not kidnapping. That’s not even- That’s not even _isolation,_ Phil. I get that you want to see your kid, but I don’t think _you kidnapping him_ is the option here.”

He could _see_ Phil’s gaze harden against him. He hated it. He _hated it._ He _loathed_ interpersonal conflict, more than almost anything else in the world. He wanted it to _stop._ However, Fundy told them the second Tubbo was allowed to go visit, and from what he could tell, it wasn’t Dream that was the problem at all. It just sounded like Tommy and Tubbo had a fight.

Teenagers _did that._ It didn’t mean they needed to “forcibly rescue” a teenager from his current guardian.

“Listen, Phil,” he said, with a forced laugh, “I’m just saying it’s not that deep. Dream personally invited us to visit Tommy! The kid’s friend was allowed to visit him, and it went badly. I’m not surprised it went badly, but... I think Fundy’s information was faulty. It wasn’t his fault: He wasn’t allowed to visit, right? But the President and his Vice aren’t giving correct information about Tommy’s situation, as _proven_ by Dream inviting Tubbo _and us_ over to visit.”

“Us? As in both of us?”

“Yeah,” Technoblade confirmed. “He sent me a message asking if I would be interested in meeting Tommy. You know, I figured there was some hero-worship going on back in Pogtopia, but neither you nor Wilbur ever told me I was the kid’s childhood hero. I had to find out from _Dream._ ”

Philza winced. He hated seeing his friend look ashamed, or upset, but a part of him was pleased. The voices... Were a bit split.

“I’m just saying that, apparently, a lot of people have left some information out, lately,” Technoblade said. “If you want to visit Tommy, we can visit Tommy! Dream cautioned me that he would be a bit stricter about how long we could stay, but I’m pretty sure that’s because Tubbo’s last two visits completely shut the kid down.”

Philza’s expression immediately flipped to complete concern. “ _What?_ ”

Techno shrugged, not sure how else to explain it. “Dream said the kid has been sleeping most of yesterday and today, and that part of it is recovering and dealing with his amnesia, but most of it is because of Tubbo’s visits. If that’s how he’s going to react every time someone visits, I’m not too surprised that the guy is being strict about visitors.”

That didn’t mean he agreed with, or expected to agree with, everything the guy did. But, so far, he wasn’t _seeing_ any signs of wrongdoing.

“You’re _certain_ Dream said that we are allowed to visit,” Phil confirmed. He seemed suspicious, looking Techno over for any trace of lie. 

It was insulting, to a degree, but he let it happen. Even though Phil sometimes forgot he had a second son, he _did_ care about him. So Techno let him have his moment of worry.

“That’s what happened,” Techno confirmed. “Dream messaged me and talked about us visiting in a few days, especially me. Plans have fluctuated, given Tommy’s state, but I really don’t think it’s his fault. The kid’s got amnesia and some serious injuries, even if those have mostly healed. He needs time to cope with them.”

“I’m going to message him about it, then,” Phil decided. “If it’s alright for us to visit, even with increased restrictions, then we should be able to visit and make sure, for ourselves, that nothing is happening to Tommy. I won’t... I won’t do anything _drastic,_ Techno. Especially not when it could hurt you. But I will make sure we can visit long enough to _guarantee_ Tommy is safe.”

It wasn’t ideal, Techno would much rather Phil let _him_ handle Dream. However, it was better than Philza impulsively deciding to kidnap an amnesiac child over little to no evidence of Tommy actually _being_ in the danger others assumed him to be in.

* * *

Despite his panic attack the previous day, Tubbo continued to be a godsend. Quackity found himself immensely grateful to the kid, who gave him a day off work after he had spent the night on Tubbo’s choice. Specifically, spent the night _screaming_ on Tubbo’s couch. The nightmares were specifically terrible that night, leaving him no energy for the morning when it came.

So he did not go into work, and advised Tubbo to take a nap during his break as well.

Instead, he went home, to spend his day reliving the dreams in his waking mind. Because that was healthy and useful.

It didn’t help that it was far more memory than dream. Far more an echo of cold netherite in his stomach -his stomach, his _stomach,_ why couldn’t he have stabbed just anywhere _else-_ by a pig man that showed no mercy than a horror cooked up in his mind. Far more _raw, unending grief_ than a simple night terror. It was, above all things, a solemn reminder:

Technoblade had stolen more from Quackity in the War than he would ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Techno are back! And Quackity angst returns! And so the drama continues XD
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter! Please leave a comment, if you would like to ^-^


	25. Memories Are Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Light Content Warning:** More mentions of Quackity's loss in the first section, but it is more focused on Quackity and Schlatt than the miscarriage

On the darkest of days, when Quackity could not force himself out of bed and all he had were the thoughts in his head, he found his thoughts drifting to Schlatt. His voice, his laugh, his hands (in both good and bad ways), the smell of his cologne... His words, ranging from soft to sharp, kind to cruel, joking to  _ mocking. _ To how he treated Tubbo, how he treated Fundy, the way he carried himself. The way he  _ destroyed _ himself.

Lost in the current of those thoughts, on those days like today, he would wonder if Schlatt would have been a good father.

Of course, he wouldn’t have been, logically. There was no evidence to suggest he would change for a little person in a bundle of cloth. No proof that he would ever want to try to be better for  _ anyone. _ If Quackity was being fair, he would leave it there. With the knowledge that the man he loved to the point of losing himself would not think twice about a kid between the two of them, would never have wanted to be in her life. Would  _ never _ have been a decent father to her, would probably be a better father by not seeing her than by actually interacting with her.

But in the dark of his room, in the darkest of days, given a day off work because of his nightmares and just needing  _ something _ to comfort him... He let himself walk his thoughts into a different universe. A better one, where the pain he felt was nothing but a bad dream.

In that world, Schlatt would have  _ adored _ their daughter. His face, so often plagued by a scowl before his death, would melt into an almost-awed smile as he held the little pink blanket that held their  _ living, breathing  _ baby. Would have held her close to his chest, cooed as she cried and got adjusted to the world around her. In that nice, fantasy world, he would have loved that little girl so much he would have lived for her.

He would have  _ lived. _ For  _ her. _

Finally,  _ finally, _ Quackity found himself in a peaceful sleep, head filled with dreams of a laughing sheep hybrid, whose laughs were not brought on cruelty but adoration. Whose lips met Quackity’s with a love and devotion he would never  _ -could _ never- lose.

And it was nice, for a time. Until he would have to wake up, and face the fact that his dreams would never be more than that. That all the things he wanted were nothing but idealistic fantasies he would never be allowed to possess for himself.

Until he could no longer hide in that fantasy world, and be Vice President Quackity again.

* * *

“Wait,” Tommy said, groggy, one hand rubbing at his eyes. “What plan are we talkin’ about?”

Dream, Skeppy, and Bad all stared at him like he had walked in on something he shouldn’t. Part of him felt like he had. That he should just go right back upstairs, go to sleep, and stop bothering people. He was a burden, with his amnesia, right? Making Dream worry, making Tubbo cry, he had  _ heard _ the yelling in the other room a few days ago. Dream said they weren’t arguing about him, but how could they be  _ sure? _ Part of him wanted to just go back to sleep and wake up when his memory returned.

“Hello, Tommy,” Dream said, and his voice was oddly soft. It was worrying and comforting at the same time, so completely  _ Dream _ that Tommy almost wanted to cry. But he didn’t. “We were just talking about how to restructure visits. I don’t want you to get hurt by visits you aren’t ready for,” he explained, “but we also do not want you to not have contact with others at all.”

So they  _ were _ talking about him. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed at his eyes again. He couldn’t cry. He  _ wouldn’t _ cry. He was making Dream worry enough as it was.

“Oh,” he said, quiet. It was clear he was choking back sadness, from the rapid shift in Dream’s posture, from surprised to comforting, and the concern on the faces of his parents. 

“Would you like to join in the conversation, Tommy?” Bad offered, with a welcoming smile. “Since all this is about you, after all.”

“You can join if you want to,” Skeppy agreed, motioning to the fourth chair at the table. It was inviting, but also terrifying. He didn’t think he liked talks like this.

Dream cut in before he could actually break down, however, with his soft words full of kindness and patience. “It’s okay if you need a moment to think, or if you don’t want to say yes. While you think about that, by the way... Did you come down for something, Tommy? I could help you get it if you needed something.”

Quickly, he shook his head. He  _ had _ wanted water, but that wasn’t the most important part there. “No,” he said, hating how quiet and pathetic and  _ needy _ his stupid voice sounded. “I just missed you. You weren’t there when I woke up.”

Not that he  _ had _ to. It was stupid to expect Dream to be there all the time. Even if he wanted him to be. He couldn’t have Dream’s attention every second of the day, that was stupid. He should probably have apologized. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

_ Shit. _

He shouldn’t have come downstairs. He wasn’t ready. Dream said it hadn’t been long enough for him to be wandering around without someone by his side the whole time, and he had been right. Even with Dream right there, he  _ felt _ so  _ alone _ and his head hurt and his arm  _ burned _ and everything  _ ached  _ and-

_And everything ached. His arm ached from the- the fight? Whatever happened. He was on the floor, the cold of the stone seeping through his clothes as he heaved. He hurt so much, so_ ** _so much,_** _didn’t know how it happened, but_ ** _God_** _he knew it hurt. And his_ ** _heart hurt,_** _too, as if he had lost something important. What? He didn’t remember._ ** _Couldn’t_** _remember._

_ Above him stood a man.  _ **_The man._ ** _ Tommy didn’t have to see the details, and  _ **_couldn’t_ ** _ see the details. The silhouette was enough. Towering above him as he wheezed on the floor (it was  _ **_so cold-_ ** _ ) was the Man. The silhouette of him, in his trench coat and hat, blocked out all reason. Like the cruel opposite of a siren’s song, his  _ **_terrible laughter_ ** _ echoed against the stone. _

_ Against the walls of The Pit. _

“-ommy?  _ Tommy? _ Please, Toms, talk to me,” came a soothing voice, like a lifeline, pulling him out of his memory. Was it a memory? Or was it a waking nightmare? He didn’t know.

Steady, gentle hands rested on his trembling arms, holding him as he shook. Why was he like this? He was  _ so scared, _ and for what? And he was on the floor, didn’t even remember  _ how he got there. _ Fuck, why was he like this?  _ Why was he like this?! _

“Deep breath, Toms,” Dream said, tone firm but kind, pulling him into the steady rhythm of  _ inhale, exhale. _ “Can you say something to me? Let me know you’re alright?”

“How do you-” The words scratched against his throat and Tommy winced before he could stop it. “Dream, I keep- Nightmares. About the man. How do you- My mind showed me something? How do I know if it’s- It could be a nightmare or a memory and I don’t- And I don’t  _ know-” _ Shit, his breathing.  _ Again. _

“You think you remembered something, Tommy?” Dream asked, voice as sweet as honey, and just as comforting. His thumbs ran circles on his shoulders, grounding him in the moment. Reminding him where he was.

“Yeah,” Tommy said,  _ hating _ how his voice shook. “The- The man in the- In the ravine. In the- In the Pit. He wanted- He- I was hurt and he was  _ happy _ about it. Right? Or did- Did I just- Did I just make it up? I don’t- Dream I can’t  _ remember _ what happened and what didn’t, I-”

“Shhh,” Dream soothed, comforting tones washing over Tommy and letting him forget about everything else in the world. “Shhh, it’s alright. It’s okay to be confused. You don’t have to talk about it if you aren’t ready yet. But if you  _ do _ want to, can you describe the man to me? Maybe I could help you out.”

“Yeah- Yeah yeah yeah, Big man, I can do that,” Tommy stumbled out, just glad he had some sort of directions. “He was- He’s- God, he’s  _ scary, _ Dream, I wanted him to just be a- Wanted him to just be a nightmare, but this one  _ feels  _ like a memory- Dream, he was- He was tall? I think? He- His coat. It was brown, like a- A trench coat? And he had a hat and- And Dream he  _ hurt me. _ I-”

The air was cold against his cheeks, and Tommy realized he was crying. He also realized that Dream was tense, in that protective way that happened when he heard something and he needed to fix it. In a swift movement, he was pulled into a tight hug. One he could hide in. One that would protect him from everyone and everything else in the entire world.

“It’s alright, Tommy,” Dream soothed. “I’ve got you. We can talk when you’re calm, okay? Thank you  _ so _ much for telling me. I’ve got you, now.”

* * *

“I haven’t messaged Him yet,” Phil admitted, as the tea finished brewing and was poured into matching cups. “I just wanted to see what you would do. I’m sorry, Techno, it wasn’t nice of me to test you like that.”

“I admit, it wasn’t the nicest feeling,” Techno said, setting the pot down and moving to add the honey into the mugs. Fresh honey was always the best. “I don’t really like when you do that, Phil. But I forgive you. We just... I want us to approach this like a team, okay? That way, everyone has a better chance of coming out safe.”

Their calm, conciliatory conversation was quickly distracted, at least on Techno’s end, by him getting a message.

_ <Dream whispered to Technoblade.> _

_ Dream: You stayed with Pogtopia for a while. Do you have any reason to believe that Wilbur hurt him? at all? _

_ Dream: tommy i mean _

“I’m gla-”

“One minute, Phil,” Techno cautioned, setting down his tea. The voices were going mad in his head. He didn’t even know how to think. How to feel. He- It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes. Was Tommy- Had he really not  _ seen _ Wilbur become that type of person? He had known the kid since he was  _ born! _ How-

_ <Technoblade messaged Dream.> _

_ Technoblade: dream im gonna need some fucking elaboration real quick _

_ Technoblade: do *you* have reason to believe he did? _

There was a pause. A moment in which it could go either way. But then, like a grim omen, he got his response.

_ Dream: i have a *number* of reasons _

_ Dream: to be suspicious, at least _

_ Dream: i want to know if you know anything _

If Dream was right... Then Techno had  _ no idea _ what he was going to tell Phil.

* * *

_ What I Know About ME: Written by TommyInnit _

_ -Dream and I just realized i don’t age right- he met me at sixteen _

_ -i’ve been sixteen the whole time _

_ -it’s been at *least* four years since i met dream, he said. I’ve been 16 the entire time. I don’t think i’m human... _

_ -i remembered something when i went downstairs on my own today. i remembered something involving the man from my nightmares _

_ -dream told me that he recognized that man’s description but he doesn’t know if that memory happened or not because he wasn’t there for that. which would make sense _

_ -i wouldn’t want dream to know if it *did* happen because i don’t want him to worry _

_ -i really don’t feel good _

_ -i want to go home. or just away. i can’t deal with this anymore. i love skeppy and bad but their house is too busy and people get in the away all the time and i don’t want to interfere with their couple shit _

_ -i just want dream to take me home so i can get some peace and quiet _

_ -is that wrong of me? shouldn’t i *want* to remember and join society again? i feel like i should want to _

_ -but i don’t _

_ -if i never remembered anything again i would die happy _

_ -it hurts too much _

* * *

The village was just as small and run-down as Niki remembered it, and  _ just _ as quiet. Her footsteps across the cold stone path felt unwelcome, like a threat from an outside force, despite  _ knowing _ she was born there, belonged in this place of silence and fear, long before she belonged somewhere else. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the movements of curtains. The silhouettes of people in windows.

Always watched, in all things. As those who cherish the Eye would expect.

It did not take her long to find her house.  _ Their _ house. The wood was dusted with first and dust, the door warped with time and windows barely transparent after years of no one cleaning them. He likely forgot to write it down, back when he could wash them himself.

Opening the door felt like willingly returning to prison and returning home all at once.

In the bed, there he sat: Her patchwork brother, barely aware of anything at all, but somehow focusing when his eyes met her form. Who was supposed to be taking care of him? She did not know. She  _ did _ know that they weren’t there, that it was only them as his face broke out into a tired, ill smile.

_ “Hello, Niki.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niki is still relevant! ^-^
> 
> And... everyone is in pain :)


	26. The Musings of the Pained and Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before my first day at work! Wish me luck ^-^

The room was warm. Too warm. His cheeks felt like they were trying to burn off his face, his head ached terribly. And Niki was there. Wiping his forehead with a damp cloth, whispering assurances to him in the dark, writing things down in his book so he wouldn’t forget. He was glad that Niki was there. He was glad he remembered her. 

Of _course_ he remembered her. He remembered the important things. And Niki was important.

He wanted to ask her questions. To hear about her adventures, what she was doing while she was gone for so long, living a life separate from his. Give her a chance to speak, when he knew few people ever did. 

But his head throbbed and his eyelids slipped closed, and the patchwork boy well asleep before he could even try to get her story.

His consciousness gone, just like his memory.

* * *

In the silence of Tommy’s room, Dream sat in his chair and felt an anger he had only felt a few times before. An anger that rang in his bones, raced through his heart, and could be heard in every breath. Not at Tommy. No, not at Tommy, who had not done a single thing wrong in that situation. Who clung to Dream like he was _dying,_ who stuttered out explanations like prayers, like _pleads_ for Dream to just swoop in and save him from the pain of his own mind. No, no he could never be mad at Tommy for that. _Never._

But he had _known_ Wilbur during the time of Pogtopia. Of course they had interacted. Not often, and rarely ever with Tommy there, but he had _known_ him. Had seen the insanity take hold, had used it. However, he had not even once thought Tommy had been in any sort of danger.

Should he have known? Was there some obvious tell that he had not seen? 

Or was Wilbur simply so much smarter than he had expected, and managed to use that underestimation to his advantage? Hid what he was doing to Tommy behind dramatics and explosions? Was Dream truly so _dumb_ as to fall for that?

Because he did not believe that it was truly a nightmare. 

Tommy said that he had had dreams and flashes of “the man from the ravine” since he woke up. His other vivid dreams were about what seemed to be a glitched-face Tubbo, sitting on their bench with him, and some peaceful dream that involved the prime log. Tommy had apparently thought the dreams weren’t important, or Dream wouldn’t want to know, so didn’t mention the ravine and glitch-face dreams.

But that didn’t matter. All the other dreams were connected to memories, or interpretations of memories, that Tommy had had before the accident. They were all _real things._

Could anyone _truly_ expect him to simply dismiss these other, _far more repeated,_ dreams as nothing but fantasy? No. No, they couldn’t. Because there was no way that Tommy’s brain came up with something so specific, _multiple times,_ over _nothing._ Not- Not about him. Not about _Wilbur._

Dream needed to do something. 

Not just fix, he needed to _change_ something. _Fix something._ The instincts, the emotions, the desires in his brain had overrun him and there was no outlet for him. It was _killing him._

He needed to _fix it._ That was his _job._ He _had_ to Fix It. Bad and Skeppy knew about his plan for Tommy, to keep him safe, and that meant he couldn’t do it. On one hand, that was good, because the _logical_ part of him saw how easily it was for that plan to fall into failure. However, that other part of him, the part that **_needed_ ** to take the people he cared about and put them somewhere safe, where he knew where they were and what they were doing and who would hurt them and how likely that would be... _That part_ was not satisfied at all with the decision to leave Tommy in the Badlands.

But, in all honesty, that instinctual side of him hadn’t been calm since Sapnap and George _left him._ For _what?!_ Him trying to protect them? For it trying to protect _George?!_ For it _caring about them?!_ He loved them. It loved them. But they left. Left him for Quackity. Left it because of a- Of a _temper tantrum._

How could Sapnap do that to him? He- George leaving hurt him. But Sapnap? _Sapnap??_ Sapnap, who was the first person who ever, truly made him feel like a person? His first and oldest friend?

That **_destroyed_ ** him. 

Somehow, the silence in the room seemed louder as he took in a shuddering breath, the only noise in the quiet. That wasn’t- That wasn’t the point. That wasn’t what he needed to be worried about. Sapnap- Sapnap was gone, he didn’t love Dream anymore. He was fine. He would _be_ fine. He couldn’t- Not with Tommy- It-

Dream could not fix what happened with Sapnap and George until he had Tommy safe. But he also needed to calm down and make a plan. So he needed someone to talk to, to get the ideas out of his head, before he drowned in them. Which meant that he-

Which meant that he needed Sapnap or George, the two always willing to listen to his emotions, even when they were dangerous, or irrational.

But he didn’t _have them_ anymore. What he _did have_ was a hurt Tommy. A Tommy who was hurt _worse_ than he had expected. He needed them, but he couldn’t have them until he fixed Tommy. But to fix Tommy he needed them. Or _wanted_ them. Or just- Or just-

His thoughts didn’t even make sense anymore. 

_ <Technoblade whispered to Dream.> _

_Technoblade: hey dream are you busy_

_That_ was a surprise; Technoblade rarely _ever_ texted first, and almost _always_ did so on someone else’s behalf. He especially tried not to message so late at night that, in a few hours, it was almost morning. Even though Dream didn’t sleep.

_Technoblade: id like to talk about tommy_

_Technoblade: i was hoping i could help him without things going sideways_

That was... That was oddly on time and topical. Punctual and relevant enough to make Dream suspicious. If people thought he generated his meddling tendencies without learning them from his parents, they were _dead_ wrong.

_ <Dream whispered to Technoblade.> _

_Dream: did *bad* tell you to text me?_

* * *

That morning, for some reason, Fundy was washing his face, mask sat on the counter beside the sink, and just... Stopped. His eyes caught his own in the glass and he just... Stopped.

Fundy usually **_hated_ ** looking at himself. In the mirror, in the reflection of the water, anywhere. He hated looking at himself, because when he did... He knew what he would see. Without the fox mask, so reminiscent of Technoblade’s own, without the hat and the jacket and all the layers he put on to put distance between himself and the world... Well, take all of that away, and what _was_ he, when he looked in the mirror?

A boy. A scared, skinny, _shy_ little boy that was too smart for people to like and too stupid to know when to leave. A boy with curly red hair that, at times, looked far too brown than ginger. A boy who, without his contacts, wore big round glasses.

A boy that looked like Wilbur.

As much as he hated being “the fox” and “the furry,” hated being just his appearance, he would take that a _million times over,_ just to not be “Wilbur’s son.”

But there he was, staring at himself like it was the only thing he was _capable_ of doing. Not of fascination, or loathing, or confusion, or any sort of emotion... But just out of being _stopped._ As if he had been going, and going, and going, and going, and _going_ for so long, but that morning.. He just couldn’t _go_ anymore.

What was the last straw? Was it Tubbo and Quackity barely being able to function, the past week, and practically leaving _him_ to run the entire nation, alone? Was it Sapnap and George having a quiet conversation that he wasn’t supposed to hear, about wanting to reconcile with Dream, meaning L’Manburg would lose their newly-acquired allies? Was it the constant back and forth about Tommy’s safety, which he was caught between, serving only as the worried messenger? Was it having to see _Technoblade,_ face to face? Was it having to confront the fact that, no matter who he adopted or who he claimed he loved, Phil would always, always, _always_ choose Technoblade, above everyone and everything else?

Or was it none of those things, and there was no last straw at all. As if he was a car sputtering, losing gas, so close to empty but unable to refuel... Until he simply had no more energy left to use.

And all he could do was stand there, as the sun slowly set, eyes dead as he forced himself to look in the mirror. Really _see_ who was reflected in its surface. Take in brown-ish hair, tired eyes, and a boy that did not look like his mother at all, but like his _father,_ angry terrorist and all.

A sane person would call into work and take a mental health day, Fundy mused, as he dried his face and slipped on the mask, taking a moment to pull his shoulder-length waves into a low ponytail. Fundy, however, was Wilbur’s son.

That made him genetically immune to being sane.

* * *

George was getting frustrated. Not _bored,_ per say, but it was getting close to that. It had been a week since Tommy’s little accident, had been longer than that since he and Sapnap left Dream’s side. Yet the man had not come groveling, the way he had every other argument in the past few years. He had thought that by joining Quackity’s little pseudo-nation, he would make Dream think he was seriously considering leaving him. And, therefore, draw him closer to his side, unwilling to let him slip through the gaps in his hands.

However, all it seemed to have accomplished was pushing Dream farther away. That had never happened before, when George pouted and tried to leave. He knew Dream could not _stand_ George trying to leave him over an argument, after hearing story after story of the threats, and laying in the dark as Dream had whispered every detail of the week Bad _did_ leave with him to “teach Skeppy a lesson.” It had worked _dozens_ of times in the past.

But this time... He did not come chasing him down.

Why? Had George made an error? Used the same strategy too often? Was he not _interesting_ enough for the god that, after a few pointed words of Tommy needing a place to grow, was willing to _exile a child_ on his behalf? What had he _done,_ to deserve this treatment?

Had Dream figured it out?

No. _No._ Surely not! Surely not. Sapnap was not in on it, his little games he played with Dream’s mind, and would back him up that he would _never_ do such a thing if asked... And Dream _trusted_ Sapnap, even more than George, to some degrees. Listened to him _far more_ than anyone else in the world. 

So no. If Dream suspected it, then he would have asked Sapnap, argument or no argument. And _sappy_ Sapnap, wrapped around George’s little fucking finger, would have defended him.

But he did not _like_ that Dream had seemingly just... Dropped it.

That _had_ to change.

* * *

At some point that night, Sapnap had gotten a message from Badboyhalo. He had not responded, had not mentioned it to anyone else, but it was stuck in his brain, like a lost song lyric. He had been so sure Dream didn’t care about him, had abandoned him after all their history. Had been _so sure-_ Until he had taken a moment to breathe, and then he wasn’t.

Had taken a moment to think about it... And then he wasn’t sure at all.

George had been so gung-ho about a fight to get back his kingship, until Dream didn’t seem to be paying attention. (Which Quackity had explained to Sapnap, in private, was because Tommy had been hurt. Of course. That made sense: As much as they argued, Dream really _had_ been concerned for Tommy, had _cared_ for him; that was why there was even an exile in the _first_ place. It was like... Advanced time-out.) The second it turned out Dream wasn’t going to chase George down, he suddenly didn’t give a _fuck_ about the kingship. And he was basically not involved in El Rapids at all, abandoning Quackity and his political endeavors a _second_ time, becoming unreachable for everyone except Sapnap.

It was weird. He wasn’t even sure how to process it. Maybe it was the late hour, but he genuinely didn’t know what it _meant._ What George even _wanted._

And... And he missed Dream. Missed his best friend- Hell, he used to think of Dream as his _soulmate._ Platonically. ~~_mostly_ ~~ ~~platonically.~~ He thought there was nothing that could separate them. Before George, he hadn’t even thought it was _possible_ to add to their friendship, to turn their tight-knit pair into a group of three. Ever since they were very young, he and Dream had been friends. Depended on each other. _Adored_ each other.

So to be without him... And over what? A _temper tantrum?_ Dream had those all the time when they were younger! It didn’t _mean_ anything, in the end. He shouldn’t have taken it so seriously-

Well. Maybe he should have?

He didn’t know. But he knew that... He missed his best friend. He knew he felt like an _asshole,_ ditching Dream and leaving him to worry after Tommy all by himself. Even before Bad’s message, he felt guilty for just... Leaving Dream alone. But now...

Bad’s message said that Dream had been through multiple breakdowns. That he was acting _very_ possessive, to the point of wanting to hide Tommy from _everyone,_ over a few meltdowns. That he was having trouble focusing, was acting jittery, _needed_ something else to focus on.

 _Someone else_ to focus on.

Bad had practically _begged_ Sapnap to come home and help Dream cope. Clearly, he hadn’t known about the argument. About all that had happened... But still. Sapnap had a feeling he would have asked even if he _had_ known. Dream was upset. He was in trouble. He _needed_ someone there, someone who could balance him out long enough to make the right decision.

Or at least, a _better_ decision.

Would it be _abandoning_ George, though, to go home? To go back to Dream? To sit beside him and lean against his shoulder and just... Let him talk, get what he was feeling off his chest, before he did something drastic? To let him lean closer, as he got more tired, voice lower and softer, until he fell asleep, using Sapnap's shoulder as a pillow. Or, instead of leaning on Sapnap’s shoulder, leaned _forward,_ leaned _in,_ and, gently-

**_And that was enough of that thought, thank you!_ **

No. No. If he couldn’t handle thinking of Dream without defaulting to the idea of kissing him, and using _other methods_ of distraction, rather than actually talking it out... Then maybe he still needed space. There was a _reason_ they weren’t still together, and hadn’t been for years. They couldn’t go back to that.

And until he kept that in mind... He _couldn’t_ go _back._

But that didn’t mean Dream didn’t need _someone._ If he couldn’t go, he would need to send someone in his place. It wasn’t _perfect,_ wasn’t what he _wanted,_ but it was better than _nothing._ Especially when Dream had not yet apologized. He felt guilty, but he couldn't just let him get away with _not_ apologizing for his actions.

But that left the question: Who would he send, to check in on his idiot?

* * *

_Tommy dreamed._

_They were not proper scenes, not a story or any sort of real narrative. Simply flashes of colour. Red, like lava. Green grass. The brown bark of oak. Lime green, made of safe-and-danger-and-enemy-and-friend. The tan color of chests, and a sudden_ **_feeling,_ ** _of biting netherite in his chest._

When he awoke, he wrote none of it down in his book, even as the flashed lingered for a few minutes as he opened his eyes. Deliberately, he let it fade.

Tommy did not _want_ to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm definitely using my own headcanon for Fundy's appearance, could you tell?
> 
> I hoped you liked this chapter! If you would like, feel free to leave your thoughts in a comment! Even if it's a ramble, or if it's a long analysis or a keysmash... I appreciate all of them! ^-^


	27. The Best-Made Plans Were Built From Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... Very Tired...
> 
> Also every Quackity section in this story is dedicated to my awesome friend who rambles with me in dms about Quackity and other such angst  
> (Helooo Ilu <3)

Far before Pogtopia or even L’Manburg, Niki had learned a thing or two about being the only one with her head on her shoulders. The only one with her wits about her, and the only one willing to help and protect others. She had learned a thing or two about protection, about loyalty, about the Ends people wished to each. So she was not surprised when, at the End of it all, in the Village of the Eye, she was yet again expected to be the loyal sister, the girl who protected and took care of her brother when no one else would.

When someone else  _ should. _

Ranboo had been in and out of consciousness the entire day, barely able to eat or drink anything before drifting off once more. He was not human, did not follow the same rules as she did, so she knew he would not starve to death in such a short time. But that was not as important as the fact that he was not eating, was barely even  _ aware _ of his surroundings. She was worried about her brother. Her brother who lived so far away, but had assured her things would be fine.

For how long had they not been fine?

At what point during the wars she fought, the country she lived in, the country she helped rebuild...  _ When, _ during all of that, had Ranboo started lying to her? Was it recently, within the last year? Had it been before? He was supposed to have Guardians, people to Watch him, to Protect him. 

But he was shut alone in the house, windows  _ dirty, _ untended and not Watched.

Since when had her little brother become a  _ village outcast? _

And  _ why? _

* * *

_ <Dream whispered to Technoblade.> _

_ Dream: did *bad* tell you to text me? _

Technoblade blinked at Dream’s response, more confused than anything else. He wasn’t sure what could have happened to prompt  _ Dream’s dad _ to message him. Well, he was more than Dream’s dad, he was a friend, and a good one at that, even though they had fallen out of touch over the years. (Skeppy as well; he found himself missing the both of them, in the quiet of Phil’s absence. But that wasn’t the point.) However, in that context, Bad would presumably be acting as Dream’s dad, encouraging Techno to talk to his son for some reason. But no, he couldn’t think of any reason why he would.

Unless whatever was going on with Tommy was more  _ intense _ than he knew.

_ <Technoblade whispered to Dream.> _

_ Technoblade: no? Why? _

There was a long pause. A  _ significant _ pause.

_ Dream: no reason _

_ Dream: why did you message me? do you know something about what we’d talked about? _

No, no Dream... Techno was  _ pretty sure _ there was a reason... Dream didn’t have to  _ tell _ him, but there sure did seem to be a reason... 

_ Technoblade: phil doesnt know about your suspicions _

_ Technoblade: phil has been through a lot, killing wilbur hit him hard _

_ Technoblade: i dont want to ask him, especially when i was there more recently than he was _

_ Technoblade: i have remembered some things that made me suspicious during pogtopia about tommy and about wilbur but i didn’t realize exactly what it meant _

_ Technoblade: we should probably talk about this in person but phil or tommy hearing this could be risky _

_ Technoblade: speaking of, phil is getting adamant about visiting. I’m not saying he should, honestly i don’t see how it would end well right now _

_ Technoblade: but he thinks he needs to and has been getting antsy, i wanted to warn you _

This was a lot more texting than Technoblade was actually comfortable with, usually, but he couldn’t stop himself. The words kept spilling out and he found himself explaining things in chopped messages, just trying to get the ramble out of his head. Worry was never fun for him to deal with in the first place, and without blood... He needed an outlet.

_ Technoblade: im getting the feeling you aren’t too keen on phil visiting right now, especially when we dont know exactly what wilbur did and when _

_ Dream: yeah. _

_ Dream: Wilbur *definitely* hurt him _

_ Dream: i dont want to talk shit about your dead friend, techno. but he *hurt tommy* _

In normal circumstances, Techno would have been angry. He  _ would _ have taken it as a slight, maybe even told Phil just enough to get him angry, but hold him back from actually getting into real danger. Maybe he would have drawn the line so Dream knew where not to cross again. But he had done more than his share of thinking, that night, and memories had risen to burn in his mind.

Like that time that Tommy threatened to run away, as a joke more than anything else, and Wilbur had pulled him into another room. He had thought Tommy looked pale when he had reemerged, but had convinced himself that Wilbur had it covered. After all, he did not  _ know _ how human children worked, did not know their limits. Wilbur should know, having raised Tommy. He trusted Wilbur to tell him where the line was.

But then there was The Pit.

The Pit.

He had no problem dueling a young warrior to settle a dispute. Especially when so angry that words were gone, such fighting would be helpful and serve as an outlet for emotions otherwise kept within. It would help Tommy communicate his emotions with a language better than words.

However, he had always felt a bit odd, about how Wilbur had practically dragged Tommy into the pit, had egged on Techno more and more until the voices only chanted one thing and he could not resist, had tried to get Tubbo involved as well...

He should have known. Shouldn’t have just chalked it up to his crazy. He  _ should have known. _

Right?

_ <Dream whispered to Technoblade.> _

_ Dream: you alright techno? _

_ Dream: did i go too far? Bad says i do that a lot _

_ Technoblade: no you just got me distracted thinking _

_ Technoblade: are you alright? _

_ Dream: not really _

_ Dream: but talking to you has somewhat helped _

_ Dream: i am not comfortable with phil visiting, even without the wilbur thing _

_ Dream: but if you want to visit to tell phil that all is well _

_ Dream: give me a few days to settle something and then you can visit _

Well. A start was better than nothing at all. 

It was a good thing that their conversation ended there, as well, even though Techno had been the one to start it: It was very late, and he did need sleep. Especially if he was going to help Phil not panic all the next day.

* * *

Morning came and with it, given that everyone in the house was asleep or not downstairs, silence filled the home.

Silence was Badboyhalo’s enemy. In the silence, away from Skeppy’s blue influence and the business of dealing with Dream and Tommy, Bad’s mind slowly emptied. The clutter that was there before stepped away, leaving an open path for other influences. For that  _ specific _ influence. The Egg was a sneaky thing, finding a single gap in his mind’s defenses and slipping inside. 

Which made the silence so dangerous.

Especially so when Bad sat alone in the kitchen, eating his french toast, silence ringing in his ears. The influence of The Egg in his mind was warm. Familiar. It probed into his thoughts, not as flashy and quickly-consuming as when he first met The Egg. Like an old friend slowly returning into one’s life, rather than a new friend bursting in and changing his world.

It was as welcome as it was unwelcome. As comforting as it was terrifying.

With all his heart, he wanted to be with Skeppy. To protect Skeppy. To  _ mend his relationship _ with Skeppy. He wanted to come home at the end of the day and be in the arms of his partner, and never have to question whether or not they would both still be there in a few days’ time. He wanted his wedding with Skeppy. He did. More than  _ anything. _

Visiting the Egg, even though the time limit was up, would spell out disaster and destroy all those things he wanted. Bad just  _ knew it. _

But still, the Egg called to him. Called to him with reminders that the three days was up. It was so  _ lonely, _ with no one to visit it. It was hungry. It was hungry. It was  _ hungry. _ How could he starve it like this? How could he  _ ignore it _ like this? How could he be so heartless? So cruel? Couldn’t he see it was lonely? It needed a friend? It needed food?

How could he call himself a decent person and treat the Egg so cruelly? He didn’t even  _ try _ to visit it!

Slowly, Bad sat down his french toast, letting the waves of guilt wash over him. He had been a terrible caretaker to the Egg, that was true. ~~but wasn’t that fine? Wasn’t that~~ ~~_ good? _ ~~ However, it was also true that visiting the Egg, even though the three days were over, would betray and hurt Skeppy. Either way, he was a traitor, and he was picking sides. He  _ hated _ picking sides. If he did not have to, he would  _ never _ pick a side.

But in this case... He would have to.

Would he choose between his controlling ~~lovely~~ _annoying_ partner, who cared so much about ~~_him_~~ this ideal of a family he had crafted in his mind, who would _never_ ~~would~~ ~~_ absolutely _ ~~ miss him, if he were gone? Would he choose that ~~beautiful person~~ useless _ battery? _

Or would he choose the Egg? It only ever ~~used~~ _** loved **_ Bad. It only ever wanted a ~~puppet~~ _ friend. _ All it wanted was a family to ~~destroy~~ _to help._

Wasn’t the Egg the better option? ~~no not at all!~~

Badboyhalo wasn’t  _ stupid. _ He knew there was something ~~terrible~~ in his head, changing his thoughts for the better ~~worse~~. But was it really so bad? Who was it hurting? ~~skeppy! It was hurting skeppy!~~

That was silly! Skeppy wouldn’t be  _ hurt _ by Bad being  _ friends with the Egg again. _ _How_ would it hurt him? The 3 day ban was up! It had been up! ~~it would take bad away, it would break them apart again!!~~

If Skeppy and Bad were so easily broken apart... Wouldn’t it be better if they just... Broke?

If he just... visited the Egg, and let the pieces fall where they would?

* * *

Not for the first morning that month, Quackity woke up wishing he had never stopped dreaming. The ghost of a warm, larger hand in his, one that, in that world had never been used for violence, still lingered on his palm, the phantom touch alive in his mind. If he closed his eyes, just for a moment, he could feel that kiss on his lips again. That mouth on his neck. That hand in his hair. If he dared, for a moment, to let himself fall back asleep, he would feel electricity course through his veins at the mere sound of a familiar laugh, long-dead, and sit in a world where it was his  _ loss _ that was the far-off dream, and not that fantastic world his brain had concocted.

Sleep proved its worth far more than the waking world, which filled itself with paperwork and anger, child presidents and warring countries, amnesiac children and children that were never born. Dreams, those nighttime flights of fantasy, held the key to a better world. A world where time and pain meant nothing, where dead loved ones could be raised without effort, and a little girl could grow up, eyes wide with innocence and an ability to learn and grow that was not present in the waking world.

He would not let himself return to sleep, of course, would not let the siren song of slumber slip into his mind and keep him from doing his assigned tasks. As much as he wished never to wake again, to live in the land of his dreams, Quackity knew that was impossible. That world was just fantasy, as much as his exhausted mind chased it.

Instead, he should chase better goals. More tangible goals. Goals he could hold in his hands. Such as finding a use for the five bones hidden deep within the recesses of his chest.

After all, if he could raise Schlatt from the dead... Was that not proof of concept? Could he not, if that was true, bring back his beautiful baby girl? Hold her in his arms as she, for once in her life, took a fresh breath of air?

Could he not, for once, be a parent the way he wanted to be? Not raising Schlatt’s possible child, whose relation may have been made up...

But raising his _real, desired,_ ** _wanted_** genetic child?

Could he not have that, if that would work?

Would it truly be so  _ wrong? _

* * *

Fortune had smiled upon George when it sent breakdowns, night terrors, and fresh waves of grief upon Quackity. With him distracted,  _ George _ could focus on other things than hiding from a mutilated hybrid that, in the end, he doubted anyone actually  _ liked. _ (Sapnap claimed to like him, but he doubted it as much as he doubted Sapnap’s crush on Karl. The boy had never dated anyone properly before. What would  _ he _ know about attraction? Not to mention, a crush wasn’t the same as  _ being _ liked.) That extra time to focus and plan would prove useful.

If all was to go according to plan, he could  _ not _ look consciously involved with anything. 

Just the empty-headed pretty boy, nothing more.


	28. Hope is Just Another Thing to Lose

_What I Know About ME: Written by TommyInnit (Page 5)_

_I said I don’t want to remember_

_I said I don’t want to remember!!_

_Please stop, I don’t want these thoughts in my head_

* * *

Tubbo felt oddly reflective when he got ready for work that morning, far more used to the daily 9 to 5 than any teenager should. But then again, this wasn’t new: His schedule had hardly changed from the days of Manburg. From the days of the War. What _had_ even changed, in a good way, because of the war?

That was it, wasn’t it? The bones under the skin, the truth behind the painting: War was a greedy beast, that took and took and took and _took,_ and only gave things that they would have been able to get without its involvement at all.

After all, Tubbo’s fate as next president of L’Manburg had been written on his bones in messy cursive the day that Schlatt had called him to his side, as if that was where he had belonged all along. He did not need a war for that. When Schlatt fell, and he was _going_ to fall regardless, he would have been president next. There was no need for Wilbur to _give_ him that position when it was the closest thing to an inheritance he would ever get.

Schlatt’s death, too, was only a matter of time. Not even Quackity could convince the man to get help for his various medical conditions, and he was much better at convincing him to do _anything_ than literally anyone in the world. (It didn’t matter how much Schlatt pretended Big Q had no influence on him at all, how minimal that influence was, or _how,_ exactly, he was convinced, at the end of the day, as long as he _was_ convinced.) At the end of the day, it would have only been a matter of time until he died. And, of course, Tubbo would have filled in until the next election: Quackity would not be president, not if Schlatt had any say in it, it seemed. 

What else had they gained, from the war? _L’Manburg?_ Tubbo had never _lost_ the country, not really, so he did not really see it as something he gained back, only something that they took back from Schlatt. Took back from Quackity, whose precious wedding ring still hung around his neck, after everything. Who still saw himself as vice president _before_ Tommy’s exile. Who, if it had not been for Schlatt’s machinations, would have been president himself at some point.

They had gained almost _nothing_ from the exile. No one could even claim that Wilbur and Tommy were no longer exiled, especially not by saying it was a gain from the war. After all, the second they won, Wilbur died, leaving behind a fractured Phil and a Tommy who shoved all his grief behind anger and volume, to never be dealt with again. Leaving behind a quieter Niki, who was never quite the same. 

Wilbur died, and left behind a gaping wound where a home once was.

Nothing was gained, truly, only shifted around or sped up in arrival. Loss, however? They were still counting the losses, he mused, as he tied his tie, almost ready to leave for the day. _(He hated that he knew how to tie one, that it was so normal for him that he could do it without thought. That he could still remember when Schlatt taught him how to wear one properly.)_

Wilbur was gone, replaced with a dead shell of himself. That was a loss that perhaps was inevitable, but he did not think so. If he had just gotten help in time, if Dream could have been kept away from him, if he remembered L’Manburg’s value of _peace,_ then... Then maybe they would not have lost it.

Quackity’s daughter. Enough said.

Tommy. Phil. Technoblade. (Didn’t Tommy _adore_ him, for most of their lives? Hadn't Tommy listened to every bedtime story about him with baited breath, eyes sparkling as he hung onto every word? How was it that they were now sworn enemies?) Niki. No, she wasn’t truly _gone,_ but she may as well have been: That family emergency, right after meeting Ghostbur, was a bit too convenient, and she had yet to return.

They were still rebuilding homes, still trying to find families to take in the children whose parents did not survive the explosion. They were _still_ finding obsidian remnants of the walls every so often, buried in the dirt or just kept there out of some weird sort of spite.

But the one thing they lost, most of all....

Tubbo walked into the main meeting room, where he knew his two companions would be waiting. Fundy, with his expression closed and notebook in hand, not speaking despite his voice having returned, gave him a curt nod. _Quackity,_ dressed in his suit from Manburg’s era (the one Schlatt specifically bought him, he remembered, navy blue and made from some special type of fabric) flashed him a quick little smile that did nothing to brighten up the gloomy air. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who was thinking grim thoughts that morning.

“Alright team,” he started, voice not half as energetic as he wished it was. “We need to focus on actual work today, and put Tommy on standby for now. Fundy, do you have the list?”

The _most important_ thing that the war and Dream took from them...

Was _hope._

* * *

It had been too long since Bad had visited the Egg, Skeppy knew. It was not distrust, in itself, but a sobered awareness: Nothing good could last forever. Skeppy had run out of hope that morning, before the day had even begun, when Bad was too hesitant to kiss him as they awake, despite covering him with affection for the past few days. When he insisted on making breakfast alone, rejected Skeppy’s company completely, and slipped away as if leaving was the easiest thing in the world. When no word of the wedding, Bad’s favorite topic to whisper about, had left his lips. Truly, Skeppy _wanted_ to hope, _wanted_ to think he would walk downstairs and simply find Bad in the kitchen.

But Skeppy found him at the entrance to the basement.

The ultimatum was over. He could not demand that he stay away, as he had before. But his diamond heart was cracking, breaking under the pressure, so unbelievably heavy that it robbed him of his breath with the knowledge that came with his heartbreak. He may never have Bad again.

And he couldn’t even fight about it.

“Hey, Bad,” he near-whispered, watching as Bad tried to mine the obsidian block by his head.

Bad froze at his voice. Eyes wide, expression tense, pickaxe in his hand like a silent scream of guilt. More proof than Skeppy had ever wanted to see.

* * *

On any normal day, Quackity would be the one sent to talk to people. He was recognizable, an almost-friendly face, and someone had started the rumor that he prevented Schlatt from being worse than he already was, so a scattering of people felt _grateful_ to him. Every joke and extroverted comment endeared him to others and helped further the President’s agenda. It made sense for him to be the one walking around.

But on that particular day, Fundy was sent out with his survey, trying to gather what other repairs needed to be done, if any, and it was Quackity who stayed back with the dreaded paperwork. A job he would usually hate but, for his tired and pained mind, worked just perfectly for him that day.

He tried to ignore the thoughts in his head. The ones that said he would never have to do paperwork again if he brought Schlatt back. That, if Tubbo _were_ Schlatt’s kid, that would make a whole lot of things possible. He couldn’t let himself be that guy. Not yet.

_Not yet._

L’Manburg was nowhere near recovered enough for the fast-approaching winter. They needed food, everyone needed shelter, and there needed to be some way to quickly transport resources in case of an emergency. The paperwork looked over those plans. It was _his job_ to make sure all those plans were approved and actually came to pass.

As selfish as he often felt, he could not focus on his problems with the dead when L’Manburg had unfinished business with the living.

Or maybe it wasn’t that at all.

Maybe he was just scared of what would happen if his plans went _wrong._

* * *

_What I Know About ME: Written by TommyInnit (Page 6)_

_-Dream almost tracked down and fought the boy president today. i had to convince him not to, which was weird_

_-i really like key lime pie_

_-a raven has been visiting, lately. Dream told me she is a girl. I have named her Henriette_

_-Dream said he thought ravens ate bats, but it turns out that he was thinking of owls. I think Dream is an owl_

_-I am glad that ravens don't eat bats- I wouldn’t want Henriette to eat a bat_

_-She has been bringing shiny objects to my window. A knife, some keys, some sparkling stones and such. Dream gave me a chest to keep the Henriette Gifts in_

_-Bad stopped visiting recently. I think something happened, again_

_-I know my shut downs have been worrying Dream. He thinks I’m asleep when he has his breakdowns. I’m not_

_-I feel bad that i worry him. He talks to himself, you know. All about how he needs to “fix this”_

_-I’m just not ready to talk about it yet_

_-I think he misses his boyfriend. Sadnap or whatever. I hope that asshole stops what he’s doing and comes back to Dream. He keeps talking about him, only to trail off and be sad. That makes me sad_

_-Dream said that, if I was up to it, I could *try* to go outside tomorrow_

_-I don’t know if I’ll be up to it_

_-I might get that cool visitor soon. Dream warned me I might have some memories, and he doesn't know if they will be good ones, but he'll protect me best he can. I feel bad that he can't leave, I know he doesn't live here._

_-Maybe that new visitor will be fun. I don't know_

_-I hope I don't remember anything._

_-Maybe Bad and Skeppy will let Dream take me home soon_

* * *

There was a jungle, far far away from any of the claimed civilizations on the SMP. Not even Dream went there, as there was no need to do. It was perfect, George knew. He would be gone for a day or two, but he told Sapnap he needed space after Dream refused to leave the Badlands, yet again, and the poor thing seemed to understand. So he could take his time: And he would need that time.

After all, it wasn’t like he had efficiency on his shovel.

~~He needed a back-up plan fast, in case this fell through: He wasn't playing for fun, he was playing to win.~~


	29. Chains of Guilt

If there was anything that could truly torture the dead, being forced to watch someone suffer from their actions but be unable to do anything had to be at the top of the list. While some ghosts were like that dumb yellow bitch who liked to play his little games and wander around multiple countries, visible and audible to nearly everyone he met,  _ he _ did not work in that way. There was no wandering for him, nor face-to-face conversations, just an invisible spectre forced to follow behind the people he harmed the most, unable to touch anything, talk and be heard, or even be  _ seen. _

Perhaps it was death that gave him a new sense of perspective. Maybe it was the lack of control that forced him to actually  _ watch _ and  _ listen. _ It could have been the mandatory sobriety of being a spectator. But whatever it was, Ghlatt felt more  _ human _ as he stood, incorporeal, by Quackity’s desk than he had ever felt while alive.

And what was humanity without guilt?

When Schlatt first met Quackity, he was as bright and loud and noticeable as the sun, drawing in attention from everyone around him without even trying. He spoke loudly and often, but did not use his voice to drown others out. He worked to help others, to protect people who were not protected. When Schlatt met Quackity, he was young. Naive. Did not know what pain a “real relationship” could bring. Did not know anything about the cold, heartless reality of a half-political marriage, or the cold, heartless reality of what it meant to be a man with  _ power. _

Quackity was an adult, but he was young. Nineteen, just learning what adulthood was even  _ about. _ Too young to be vice president. Too young to be married. Too young for  _ any _ of the things he had to live through. 

But that hadn’t stopped Schlatt, had it?

That life, that fire, that naivete hadn’t stopped him from drawing Quackity closer and closer to his, words like honey and poison, building him up and tearing him down in an addictive cycle he never should have started in the first place. Hadn’t stopped him from taking him to bed, talking about him as if that was the only thing he was made for when he had  _ such _ a passion for politics (in his own way) and could argue like the need to do so was woven into his soul when he needed to. Hadn’t stopped him from marrying him, trapping him in his first ever serious relationship with whiskey-kisses and alcohol punches, only some of both happening behind closed doors. 

Now, Quackity signed paperwork with a dead look in his eyes, the fire gone unless he was trying to, quite literally,  _ fight god. _ At what point did Schlatt take that away, his ability to be passionate outside of destruction and war? What cruel word, what punch, what thoughtless action was the one that finally made him stop truly  _ caring? _ (Would it even matter if he knew?)

There was no way he could fix it. Quackity couldn’t see him, feel him,  _ hear him... _ Nothing he had tried worked, and nothing he could try  _ would work. _ This was his punishment, to watch the man he dragged into his plans waste away in pain and grief while he was powerless to stop it or even look away. Every morning, he saw Quackity grow angrier as a shield, grow louder as a weapon, and bury the parts of himself that made him soft and weak.

Sounded real familiar, didn’t it.

But that was nowhere near the worst part, and he knew it. Knew it even as he tried to ignore it, knew it even as he  _ craved _ the ability to drink again, just so he could forget. Just so he could stop seeing what was right in front of him. What Quackity was going to do.

There was a tome, in the bottom right drawer of Quackity’s desk. Old, thick, with a purple leather binding and a cursive script written out hundreds of years ago. One of the only accurate books on necromancy that survived “President” Wilbur’s bonfire of necromantic and nether-ritual-based texts. Hidden, in the depths of Soots library, uncovered by chance. A thing that only spelled out trouble.

Only a fool would think that Quackity, who had already taken the first steps to bringing Schlatt back, would be trying to resurrect anyone  _ else. _

God, if it was Tubbo, maybe he would not have minded. Baffled, of course he would be. Amused? Of course. His little successor calling for daddy the second things went badly? It was hilarious, in a terrible sort of way. More terrible than funny, he sometimes thought, but still amusing. Fundy would have been mostly just sad (but at least in that case, he would have the chance to explain that he meant Fundy’s insistence on cosplaying a fox and being the son of a salmon, not... anything else... with one of his last statements; he hadn’t even known). If Fundy truly saw  _ Schlatt _ as a better father, or  _ president _ than Wilbur... The kid had more issues than he  _ thought, _

But Quackity? Quackity, who listened to his dramatic monologues in their home, amused sparkle in his eyes as he pretended to outline his plans to all of Manburg? Quackity, who had no such tolerance for that type of quality time after he used those monologues to take away the rights of citizens one to many times? Quackity, who had loved his hands until he turned them into unrelenting weapons? Quackity, whose words were poison spat at Schlatt, the last few times they saw each other? Quackity, the man whose love curdled into pain after years of cold, heartless “love”?

It felt wrong. It felt  _ bad, _ the way he had always stayed loyal, despite the line of loyalty being long since crossed. Quackity’s insistence of returning him to that world, after only leaving by practically being dragged away, killed him in a way that his “hatred” of Schlatt  _ never _ could.

How foolish he was, thinking that Quackity leaving was far worse than him  _ staying. _

He was still naive, still stubborn, still angry, but in a twisted and different way. He was still Quackity, heart-breakingly  _ loyal, _ even when every memory of Schlatt caused him pain.

Even when, if it hadn’t been for  _ Schlatt, _ he never would have had a baby to  _ lose. _

But there was nothing Schlatt could do, to make Quackity change his mind, at that point. Robbed of every method of communication, all he had was the “power” of the observer. The powerlessness that came with being the ever-present watching. All he could do was watch as he tried that forbidden, risky ritual. 

All he could do was watch as his former husband destroyed himself.

Perhaps it would have been easier if his words had been true, all those times he said them.

If he really  _ had _ never loved that beautiful, naive,  _ stubborn _ man.

* * *

Ice filled Bad’s veins, a familiar poison, as he froze. Skeppy was behind him. Skeppy  _ saw him _ taking down the barrier. He knew it was a good thing in the end, to let things go. ~~no, no it wasn’t, how could you~~ ~~_think_ ~~ ~~that?!~~ Their relationship was not invincible, it was not immortal. It would die eventually, leaving them in broken pieces. ~~not if they got help! not if they just sat down and ~~ ~~_ tried, _ ~~ ~~right?~~ Trying to save an already broken thing was futile. Stupid. ~~so very worth it, please just~~ ~~_ listen _ ~~

But that stubborn, unrelenting piece of him in that unchanged corner of his heart, still  _ screamed _ at the disappointment in his voice. The resignation. Skeppy was too pained and resigned to even sound  _ betrayed _ at that point, and that useless part of his heart  _ broke _ to hear it. 

“Hey, Skeppy,” he said, voice strained. He _knew_ he had to do this, so why did it hurt so _much?_

“So you’re visiting the Egg again?” he asked, in that voice that was fake-light, pretending to be fine when nothing was fine at all. 

At some point, Bad had stopped mining the obsidian. He didn’t remember stopping. He did not start again.

“It’s lonely, Skeppy,” he almost  _ pleaded. _ “It needs me.”

“Okay," he agreed, voice flat. He shouldn't have agreed, it only made Bad feel worse. "I noticed you didn’t visit Tommy today.”

“Well, he’s been with Dream, and-”

“And you said you wanted to try raising a second kid for as long as Tommy needed it, Bad.”

This was the moment. This was the part where he made it worse, shattered Skeppy’s heart, and he took Tommy far away, leaving him with the Egg, as it  _ should _ be. It was time.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Badboyhalo  _ needed _ to end this. To be with the Egg, he could  _ not _ have Skeppy! He needed to make the choice. He needed to. He  _ needed _ to.

But he couldn’t.

“Bad?”

The pickaxe clattered to the floor without a single piece of obsidian mined. He heard Skeppy say something behind him, but he didn’t know what. Didn’t care to find out. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay. He  _ couldn’t stay. _

The cold air outside met his face before he even processed running out of the house in the first place.

* * *

No one in the Village would give them food; she did not even have to ask to know that, so Niki did not try. Instead, she thanked the Eyes for the foresight of bringing extra food with her when she came. Ranboo had no food in the house, save for a single piece of rotten flesh she didn’t know how he acquired, and was absolutely  _ not _ a meal. She could not feed that to her younger brother, who still did not quite seem to understand where he was, or what was happening. 

He had not been that sick since they were so young that their parents were actually around.

Something had  _ definitely _ happened. 

And she needed to find out what.

* * *

Eret was not a stranger to feelings of guilt, as they haunted his every waking moment, drawing him deeper into pain even when he knew he was in the right. He was, however, significantly less familiar with them on the face of  _ Sapnap, _ local arsonist, pet killer, and (former) Dream apologist. Then again, he was not too familiar with Sapnap himself. They had not talked often, and most of their discussions were just messages from Dream. Sapnap did not respect him, and although he disliked it, he did understand it. He was not all too fond of him, either.

Which was why he found it to be a surprise when Sapnap showed up at his castle unannounced, looking guilty and conflicted with his only explanation being something about a favor. They had never been the people who did favors for each other. Especially in such circumstances. But, somehow, Sapnap was determined for this to be a thing. So, for lack of a better reaction, Eret humored him.

“I need a favor,” Sapnap repeated again, standing oh-so-awkwardly in the middle of the throne room. “For Dream.”

“For Dream,” Eret repeated, almost-neutral, but not quite there. He would follow  _ orders _ from Dream, but he was not too sure about simply handing him favors.

“Listen,” the man huffed, hands in his pockets as he seemed to glare daggers at the  _ king he wanted help from, _ “I know, okay? I’m about as happy about this as you are. But Dream and I aren’t... Good right now. If I try to help him, it will make everything worse, on all sides. But someone needs to check on him before he does something crazy.”

“Such as?” In all honesty, Eret was quite lost. There was a lot he felt he did not know about there.

“Tommy lost his memory, right?” Sapnap prompted, unintentionally informing Eret of some  _ notable _ information. “Dream has been worried out of his mind and the visits from certain people aren’t helping. I can’t visit him without making it worse and George is... Busy. Can you, I don’t know, call him over for lunch or something? Make sure he’s grounded before he does something completely insane?”

That was... An interesting request.

“You just want me to invite him over so he does not get overwhelmed,” Eret paraphrased, wondering if he just got confused somewhere down the line.

He had not.

“Yeah, exactly. Trust me, he does better with company than without it.”

Fair enough, but Eret was still quite confused how any of this came to pass.

But somehow, judging by Sapnap’s expression... He did not think it would actually be  _ explained _ to him.

* * *

The pit he had dug was turning into a wonderful underground room, George thought to himself. Especially the little offshoot he had dug later, a little room that was perfect for what he needed it for. He decided to decorate it specially, just as a kindness for the purpose it was to serve. 

Who would possibly be able to claim that George was not a giving host?


	30. Moving Forward (But Some of Us are Facing the Wrong Way)

“Hey, Dream, tell me about your boyfriend,” Tommy had demanded, in the middle of a silent note in their conversation. Given that Dream did not have a boyfriend and could not read the boy’s mind, he was understandably a bit confused.

_ “What?” _

“You know, Panda-boy or whatever,” Tommy explained, writing something in that ever-growing book of his. ~~he~~ ~~_ needed to know _ ~~ ~~what was in that book~~ “You mention him all the time and stuff, but he’s not around anymore. What’s up with that?”

Oh. Oh joy. How fun. Absolutely the conversation he wanted to have, at any point. Definitely, yeah. This was what he wanted to talk about while in the middle of a week-long breakdown, made worse by his dear friends wanting nothing to do with him ~~because he was a piece of shit~~.

Okay.

“Well, he isn’t my boyfriend,” Dream began, but did not get much farther than that. Tommy’s eyebrows rocketed up his forehead, belief nowhere to be found in his expression, no matter how convincing Dream may have sounded. ~~about as convincing as schlatt claiming he wasn't gay while his hands were on quackity's ass.~~

“Okay, he  _ currently _ isn’t my boyfriend,” he amended with a deep sigh. “Sapnap is... He’s my best friend, I’ve said that before. My first ever friend, and honestly if that doesn’t prove he has the patience of a god... I was  _ not _ someone anyone should have been friends with, back then. Around that time, Bad literally had us move so we weren’t around other kids, because I had no sense of when was too much. Thankfully, there was a mechanic where we lived that no one under a certain age could lose a canon life, so I didn’t  _ murder _ anyone, but...” He trailed off to chuckle. 

“But anyway,” he said, forcing himself to move on, “we were best friends and then we dated for a bit, and we- Well, we didn’t know how to cope with things, and-”

“And you’re not together anymore,” Tommy finished, either not having the patience for a long story, or the emotional fortitude for a sad one. “Which is fine, but like,  _ tell _ me about him. You never tell me anything about yourself! It’s always Bad or Skeppy or Henriette or something like that. I wanna know about  _ you. _ You’re my friend, right? I should know about you!”

_ Well, if  _ **_that_ ** _ didn’t sting in a special way. _

“You want to know about me?” Dream nearly forced itself to ask. Right, of course he would, because Tommy was a  _ normal person _ who didn’t think people knowing literally any information about him was a threat. Right. And even if Tommy had ever thought like that, he wouldn’t  _ remember _ it. Right.

“Yeah, obviously, Big Man,” Tommy scoffed, but there was no real derision behind it. “You’re so... Weird. And mysterious. In a good way, but, y’know. I just...” He got quieter, then, adding, “I dunno, I just wanna know about you.” 

Dream did not feel guilty at all, emotions were a scam, and no one had any proof that Tommy looking just slightly upset made him panic with the desire to fix it. There was simply no proof.

“Okay,” he replied, slowly. “What do you want to know? Just about Sapnap, or is there something specific you want to know?”

Dream had a funny feeling he wanted to know something specific, like with the ma-

_ “Why do you wear that mask all the time?!” _ Tommy blurted, right on schedule. “I really want to know. Like- There’s nothing  _ wrong _ with it, I just noticed like, no one else wears a mask, so...”

“Well, no one you’ve met yet,” Dream agreed. “Tec- Your visitor next week and Fundy both wear masks. Those are different types of masks, though, so you aren’t wrong there.”

_ “Okay,” _ Tommy said, leaning forward with a barely-restrained huff of annoyance. “But... Why do you wear  _ yours, _ though?”

A sigh left him without his control. Right. That would be the obvious question, and he still did not want to answer it, no matter  _ how _ obvious it was...

“Well, that is a bit of a personal question,” Dream tried to buffer. “It isn’t something that I tell just anyone about. That’s privileged information, I only tell people that I can  _ trust _ won’t tell anyone else.”

Like a balloon, Dream watched the boy deflate. “Oh,” he said, quiet and pouty. “Yeah, okay, I understand.” 

“But I can tell you something else!” Dream rushed to correct. Friend Dream,  _ Friend Dream, _ be the Dream that was friendly and did not make Tommy upset. “What do you want to know, that isn’t the mask? I can tell you something else about me, if that’s what you’d like.”

But it didn’t work.

“No it’s- No, it’s fine,” Tommy sighed. “Really, it’s okay. You probably don’t want to tell me about yourself, and that’s fine. I don’t know anything about  _ me, _ either, so that wouldn’t even be an even trade.”

“No, no, it- It’s fine,” it tried to reassure. “Uh, listen- I- I want to tell you something, so you know at least something about me. I know more about me. I just... Don’t know what to say. I don’t talk about myself much. Showing you the sketchbook was as open as I’ve been in... A very long time.”

“Oh.” Tommy blinked, as if surprised. He... Probably was, Dream remembered, because this kid  _ remembered nothing about him at all. _

“I can try and tell you something, though,” Dream repeated. “Maybe... Maybe not now, I would have to think about it. I really don’t talk about myself much. But soon. Soon I can tell you something about me.”

That, thankfully, seemed to do the trick, and Tommy nodded in acceptance.

“Okay, Big Man. Take your time.”

* * *

_ What I Know About ME: Written by TommyInnit (Page 7) _

_ -Henriette gave me a compass today! It’s all fucked up and scratched, like it was blown up and stuff, but there’s something faintly engraved on the back of it. That’s so cool! _

_ -dream told me he uses he/it pronouns today and explained that some people use it/its because it fits them, not because they feel like an object/inhuman, but some people do. pogchamp _

_ -i asked him if he was one of the feels-like-an-object ones because, y’know, i was curious, and he laughed, saying it was kind of hard for him NOT to be... what the fuck does that mean??? _

_ -wait. dream says it’s tubbo’s compass. _

_ -i don’t want it anymore _

_ -Bad ran out of the house earlier today, apparently really upset. Skeppy is upset too and Dream is worried _

_ -also apparently there is a MAN-EATING EGG IN THE BASEMENT?! AND NO ONE TOLD ME?!?! _

_ -I mean I don’t blame Dream, he was a bit distracted, but STILL _

_ -anyway Dream told me a bit more about our mystery visitor! he’s a guy and apparently like, a super famous warrior, baked in legends for like, over a hundred years or some shit. he’s a hybrid so ages wrong like me (wait am i a hybrid? Note to future tommy: ask dream) _

_ -anyway anyway anyway he is like, his OWN ARMY, that’s SO COOL! _

_ -i mean. dream worries because i like fighting so much, but i promise it’s just other people fighting, not tommy _

_ -tommy is just fine in his room where it is safe, thank you, especially with the discovery OF THE MURDER EGG _

_ -i don’t even know if i CAN fight. obviously i haven’t even held a weapon in my memory _

_ -anyway dream recently started asking me if i had seen anyone or seen anything odd and obviously i was like nOOO? Because? I haven’t??? And apparently past-me used to hallucinate, especially under stress, so uh _

_ -there’s that, i guess _

_ -also i asked dream about his boyfriend _

_ -turns out they aren’t dating anymore. that’s sad. _

_ -he still doesn’t want to tell me about the mask... but ive decided to stop asking because it obviously makes him uncomfortable  _

_ -he *really* doesn’t like talking about himself. he offered to tell me about himself because i wanted to know, but he was basically forcing himself to offer _

_ -he says he wants to but i don’t know, it feels weird just letting him when i know he isn’t completely comfortable with it _

_ -also he says my mystery visitor wears a mask. i wonder if he looks like dream at all _

* * *

Of course Bad had run away from his problems. Why wouldn’t he, Skeppy thought to himself, internally wanting to scream. What was even the point of chasing after him, when he was just going to run away again or confront him and make everything worse, he thought, stopping halfway to the door. The wedding, while a sweet proposal, was just a distraction and a  _ bribe, _ wasn’t it? It wasn’t going to fix it. It didn’t even show that Bad had learned his lesson. If he had  _ learned _ that he shouldn’t be selfish and controlling, he would have asked if a wedding was what Skeppy even  _ wanted _ as reparation, rather than assuming it. But he didn’t.

He didn’t do a lot of things.

At the end of the day, Bad couldn’t stay away from ~~him~~ the Egg that long, no matter what he claimed he wanted, so he would be back. Chasing after him would just upset both of them, it wouldn’t  _ prove _ anything. It wouldn’t  _ fix _ anything. Bad would still want the Egg, would still be avoiding Tommy, would still be refusing to get real help, even if he chased him down and poured out his heart,  _ begging _ him to come home and not to choose something else over his family. As much as he hated it, as much as he hated  _ himself _ for it, he found himself losing hope.

Perhaps, a happy marriage between them just... Wasn’t meant to be.

God knows they had been messed up since Dream was a kid, with the yelling and the fighting and the threats to leave, the way that they turned everything into an argument... No matter who was wrong or who was right, they would find a way to make both of themselves miserable by the end of the night. Even before the Egg, things were rough, even though there had been improvements. They had argued so fiercely when Technoblade openly joined the server, his very  _ presence _ in the nearby reality making Bad so jealous for an hour or so that he could barely  _ think. _

Did that actually  _ sound _ like part of a happy relationship? Exactly.

Was any part of what they did part of a healthy relationship? Where they even- Had they ever  _ been _ happy? Pain and despair welled in Skeppy’s heart, chains that kept him from chasing after the love of his life. Chains that kept him  _ right by _ the obsidian sandwich. Chains that kept him still.

~~He should stay still. Let the marriage die.~~

He should- Wait.  _ What? _

* * *

Quackity hated all the little rules and pieces that went into resurrecting someone from the dead. They were too complicated, too inconvenient, and meant that he had to spend far more time preparing than he ever wanted to. There was no way he wasn’t going to get caught, at this rate, and he still wasn’t completely committed to the idea. Which, of course, presented a number of problems. Of course, he needed to not get caught, and needed to follow all the rules, for any hope of the resurrection going through. Which meant...

He needed to make sure Schlatt was  _ willing _ to be resurrected. 

If resurrecting an adult, or anyone older than an infant, the spirit had to be  _ willing _ in order to be brought back without significant issue. That presented a significant issue within and of itself, given that Schlatt probably wouldn’t want  _ Quackity _ to resurrect him, to have  _ anything _ over him in any sense. Even if he wanted to come back, it was probably a guarantee that having his former husband, the person he saw as only a mindless piece of ass, hold anything else over his head would be an issue for him. 

But that meant he had to ask. Meant he had to  _ convince _ him to let Quackity bring him back, because he did not want to put it in someone else’s hands to get the task done. Because if anyone should be the first person to see Schlatt alive again, it was  _ him. _

The best thing the book he had could offer in terms of communication was finding an old communicator or putting letters, numbers, and a few key words on a sign on the floor. It didn’t have any sort of  _ helpful _ methods of communicating with the dead, and had very few methods of actually  _ finding _ them. There were rituals, with the candles and the chanting and the music, there were tips on talking with ghosts one could see, there were a handful of things that could work in certain situations.

But it was one book in a series of twelve. There wasn’t everything, and not nearly enough.

So, he had to improvise.

Perhaps an altar with booze, protein shakes and that stupid tie he loved so much would help summon him.

* * *

Eret was not sure how to go about inviting Dream over. What was he supposed to do, invite him over to tea? Tell him Sapnap was worried about him? It was not as if he and Dream had a particularly personal relationship, as of late, no matter how things were before. Completing this task, that he agreed to for some strange reason, would take a lot more effort than he thought. Which was especially inconvenient, because he was certain this was not actually his job.

Where was  _ George? _

* * *

The underground bunker gained another room, this one with a pool in the center. George did not have a  _ specific _ plan for it just yet, but he felt it would be useful to have, either way. Even if he did not use it for... Convincing someone to do something, it could have its uses. Water was an extremely valuable resource, anyway. 

All in all, he would call it a successful day. Now, all he had to do was make his own bedroom, so he could spawn out here, instead of having to travel all the way out every time he needed to make a visit. 

Even  _ he _ couldn’t be so convincing as to make Sapnap think that wasn’t suspicious.


	31. Everyone Should Definitely Trust George and His Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kvnrekjvnekjje to the friend who left the super nice bookmark: i SAW that and you're so sweeet omg nsjckekkntrekjvnrekjew

Tomorrow, Eret decided. If tomorrow was free, he would message Dream. He had not seen him in a bit, and that was a good enough excuse for a subordinate ~~god how that burned~~ to check in. Then, after that, he would see what happened.

* * *

After leaving Tommy’s room and finding that Skeppy had left his frozen position by the obsidian sandwich, Dream knew he had to go do something. Interfere, most likely, to stop his parents from destroying themselves yet again. He knew they would, their voices echoing in his mind along with Bad’s frantic footsteps out of the house. It was what they always did, even when they got better. He had to find Skeppy, or Bad, whichever he could find firs-

_ <Georgenotfound whispered to Dream.> _

**What?**

_Georgenotfound: hey_

_Georgenotfound: i know youre ignoring me right now but can we please talk? it’s important_

Oh. _Oh._ It’s George. George _does_ want to talk to him, he doesn’t hate- Wait. Did he try to contact Dream before? Is that why he said he was ignoring him? Is that what happened? Did he fuck up again, like he did with Tommy, coming to the wrong conclusions and ignoring things he didn’t mean to overlook? Shit.

 _Dream:_ _i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to ignore you, i didn’t see any messages from you lately_

_Dream: whats up?_

_Georgenotfound: It’s fine. I was just worried, because you know_

_Georgenotfound: you kind of took tommy and left, you know?_

All the air rushed out of Dream’s lungs. It was fine, he had to remind himself. It wasn’t George’s job to remember all of his little issues, to manage all of his words to keep from upsetting Dream. Bad told him that he can’t expect everyone to sugarcoat things and remember every detail about him. George probably just forgot that using that phrase would hurt Dream’s feelings. He wouldn’t hurt him like that on _purpose._ He was the innocent one of the Dream Team, the kindest by default. More importantly, he was one of Dream’s _best friends._ He wouldn’t do that to Dream, even after an argument.

Besides, it was kind of true. He did take Tommy, and he did leave George, after they had an argument. Even if he didn't agree with why they were upset, he still _did_ it. Even if he had meant it, which he didn't, George wouldn't have been wro-

_Georgenotfound: dream are you still there?_

_Dream: yeah_

_Dream: yeah im here_

_Dream: where are you right now?_

_Georgenotfound: i’m working somewhere else on something, trying to clear my head_

_Georgenotfound: i was trying to distract myself from you funnily enough_

_Georgenotfound: then i decided to just message you_

_Georgenotfound: i’m a while away though so unfortunately we can’t meet up :(_

_Georgenotfound: oh_

_Georgenotfound: i mean if you even wanted to meet up, i know you need your space_

If it was anyone else, Dream would think that this was a rather transparent attempt to make him feel even more guilty for “pushing” his friends away. But this was George, who always talked that way. He couldn’t help it, he didn’t always understand how Dream thought, how he took things. After all, Dream didn’t _think_ like other people. It only took a few dozen confused looks and hurt responses from George to get the memo on that.

Dream didn’t _understand_ humans, and so George didn’t always understand him, either. He had to be patient with George, try to understand him, and be less _sensitive_ so that their friendship ~~if they even still had one~~ could be better.

George wasn’t _trying_ to hurt him. He was probably trying to be considerate.

* * *

After the fifth minute of Dream not responding, George _knew_ he had hurt him. Cut deep with only a short span of conversation, getting the reaction he wanted. That he _needed._ He was still busy, finishing his blue-themes room as they spoke, but that was alright. He could ride the high as he built. No one else made Dream like this. No one else _could._ He was the elite, he was on top of the _world._

Finally, Dream managed a response. George imagined that he had typed out what he wanted to say and deleted it a dozen times, until he felt it nice enough to send. He’d trained him well, being so _considerate_ of his feelings.

_Dream: i didn’t mean to push you away george_

_Dream: im sorry_

Oh, George _bet_ he was.

_Dream: tommy is hurt and i need to take care of him_

_Georgenotfound: why do you care if tommy is hurt? he has family that can take care of him until he’s better, or you can give him a health pot_

_Dream: we did_

_Dream: they only fixed most of the damage. some of it just cant be magicked away_

_Dream: and i wouldn’t trust his family with a puppy_

Oh. That was a lot to take in, actually. And it was new information: George knew that Dream thought he could be better than Tommy’s family, because of course he did, but he had no idea the man had any ill feelings towards those people. He didn’t like not knowing. If Dream had talked to him, he _would_ have known. Shit.

_Georgenotfound: what happened? i thought you liked them_

_Georgenotfound: or at least tolerated them_

_Dream: things changed_

* * *

_Dream: things changed_

That was the light way of putting it, he mused, finding himself pacing the house, trying not to enter Tommy’s room for fear of disturbing him or accidentally triggering another conversation with the kid. Talking with him seemed to be making things better, but they also made things worse, and that was a Problem. He did not know what was causing the worse bits, so his conversations with Tommy had to be sparing. Or, at least, he had to be prepared to talk. And he was busy talking to George at the moment.

He knew George hated being ignored. Dream wasn’t the only one with issues from his childhoo-

Oh, shit, George must have felt _terrible_ with the way Dream hadn’t talked to him. **_Fuck._ **

_Georgenotfound: things changed?_

_Dream: tommy’s home situation wasnt exactly what i thought it was at some points and i am learning how to deal with it_

_Dream: i probably shouldnt talk about it without his permission. Privacy?_

_Dream: but yeah. things changed_

_Georgenotfound: alright. you dont have to tell me if you dont want to, i understand_

_Georgenotfound: it’s nice just being able to talk to you. it’s been a while_

_Georgenotfound: i really do miss you_

Yeah, he probably missed him and was distraught over being ignored, because Dream got in his own head and forgot to check in or sort things out like an _asshole._ He was such a shitty friend to George, he would never be able to make it up-

_Georgenotfound: where are you staying right now?_

_Georgenotfound: i cant visit today and i dont know about tomorrow but i want to visit you and tommy_

_Georgenotfound: i am sorry he was hurt, i never meant for that to happen_

_Dream: i know_

_Dream: Tommy is with my parents right now, in the Badlands_

_Dream: you can visit anytime. we have a strict visitor policy right now though, so don’t bring anyone else without warning_

_Dream: tommy gets overwhelmed_

_Georgenotfound: thanks for letting me know_

_Georgenotfound: i might be able to make it tomorrow, actually, if i get this project to the point i want it_

_Georgenotfound: would that be okay?_

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. It would be better if he could see Sapnap _and_ George, but he was a beggar, not a chooser. Of **_course_ ** he wanted to see George!

_Dream: yes of course_

_Dream: ill see you tomorrow?_

_Georgenotfound: Well... no promises_

_Georgenotfound: but okay, see you tomorrow_

George didn’t hate him. George didn’t hate him! Dream was so relieved he felt like crying.

* * *

The cool air hit Skeppy’s face as he, too, forced himself outside. He could still feel the voice in his head; not literally, but psychologically, its imagined tendrils burrowing into his brain. He hated the voice, smooth but poisonous, a lie in its barest form. It didn’t belong in his head. It absolutely did _not_ belong in his head. He didn’t like it at _all._

How could Bad call that voice a _friend?_ It was like feeling all the shades of uncomfortable, all at once. It was terrible.

And, thankfully, now that he had left the house... It was gone.

* * *

When Bad found the scene of the Date Night, he finally stopped running. This was far enough away. This was a safe place. A _good_ place. He could rest there. Could collect his thoughts there.

The Egg was a friend. But the Egg wanted to pull him and Skeppy apart. But the Egg cared for him. But the Egg was just using him. But the Egg _needed_ him.

He didn’t know what to do, or what to think. He didn’t know how to deal with something like this, something so unnatural. But he did know that there was a village, known as the Village of the Eye, which knew far too much about weird, unnatural things. Was _home_ to some weird, unnatural things. Had killed others. If he wanted some way to deal with the Egg before it killed his marriage, he would need to get ahold of his contact from the village. Of course, she was away on a family emergency, so response times would likely be slow. 

Not ideal, but better than nothing.

_ <Badboyhalo whispered to Nihachu.> _

_Badboyhalo: Hi Niki! :D_

_Badboyhalo: Do you have a moment? I might need some advice, or at least help for when you get back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George is totally innocent and unaware of what he's doing, definitely. /s


	32. Communication from Beyond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! That's for the patience! I had a 60 hour work week and also hurt my hand... ^-^;; But don't worry, I'll be fine!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next chapter will be even better, promise! There's a lot that will happen in next chapter
> 
> But again, thanks for reading and your patience. Enjoy the chapter!

Over the past forty or so minutes, Schlatt watched as Quackity set up a makeshift “summoning altar” in the back corner of his basement, which had been mostly cleared out just for this _stupid fucking_ ritual. Bottles of alcohol, glass containers that he craved so badly when he was first a ghost but now he felt sick just thinking about them, sat on the wooden structure, along with those shitty protein shakes that tasted disgusting but he kept chugging so he felt like a “real man.” A candle sat in the center in a glass container, with his old tie wrapped around the bottom of the glass. It was a red tie, one of his first, and he always liked to wear it on special occasions- it was the one good thing he had ever gotten from his father. All those, along with the communicator, sat on the altar which was covered with a gold tablecloth. Quackity had hated it when he’d first bought it, saying it looked too gaudy, like they were bragging. Which, of course, was _right,_ but he had never liked listening to his husband when he was alive, and he bought the stupid thing anyway.

Looking back, he could see clearly just how _ugly_ the stupid piece of shit was. Why had he purchased it in the first place? Fuck.

The smell of candle smoke clogged his head, ghostly and intangible as he was, reminding him far too much of church services as a child. Memories of crowds he could not address, and a feeling of helplessness greater even than his current spectral state, rushed through his head, making the crowing from the smoke even worse. Quackity was drawing something on the one empty part of the cloth on the altar’s flat surface, each line increasing the disoriented feeling that had enveloped him. 

Time ticked by and it became less disorienting, in that seasick kind of way, and more a... A _pull._ An influence from the universe itself, tugging him closer to Quackity- not unlike the feeling that kept him from fully leaving his former husband’s side in the first place. Schlatt found himself moving closer, floating across the room to the altar in an almost-haze, not truly able to resist the pull, even as his brain insisted that he _could,_ if he truly wanted to. His eyes fell down to the communicator he would end up having to use. Then to the circle, as Quackity worked with insistence. 

He was _still_ drawing.

There were three circles drawn in black on the shitty gold tablecloth ~~which he shouldn’t have ever bought, why did he do that, what did that~~ _ ~~prove?~~ _one inside another. There was one big circle, with the thickest lines, and inside that a middle circle, and a smallest circle inside the middle one. Within the smallest circle was where Quackity had apparently decided to get creative, as he had not done the two lines that would create the four sections, as shown in the open book sitting on the crafting table. (which... well. _Schlatt_ knew Quackity hadn’t crafted a _damn thing_ in the basement since that bench was placed...) Instead, he drew three lines: Two incredibly thin lines formed an ‘x’, while a third thin line went vertically through the center, created two large wedges and four small ones. He proceeded to put a ring in each section. Small rings in the four wedges, and Schlatt’s wedding ring on the right large wedge. Quackity’s own ring went in the left large wedge, and he nodded. The pull was definitely stronger, but not quite... “enough.” He didn’t know what enough _meant,_ but he could feel they weren’t _there._

Then, a sigh rang out, as Quackity realized that he still had more penwork to do, and the rings couldn’t stay where they were.

Typical Quackity, jumping ahead a step without even meaning to, without someone there to guide him. If only he actually leaned on other people enough to let them help him, rather than pushing Karl away and living like the world’s most traumatized hermit. But oh well, they wouldn’t change the past, right? All they could do was exist in the present. Which meant watching Quackity write out, inside the biggest circle, an inscription in some old Nether language that the author of the book did not share the name of (some might say that it was because the language was so old it was lost to time, but given that the author called all Nether species civilizations “primitive,” _multiple times..._ It was probably just colonialism). The inscription was simple, something loosely translating to sending a message to the dead, but Schlatt knew that if Quackity’s hours and hours of research had not been fruitless, the inscription would translate to “Just talk to me, you sheep-horned asshole.” Unfortunately, that language had essentially no translation dictionaries in the overworld, outside of this book and, likely, its companions, and the translations there were... Limited, at best.

In the space between the middle and smallest circle Quackity wrote out Schlatt’s name. The book said it had to be the spirit’s full name, and he held his breath in fear that he was going to see a name long-since cast aside scrawled out in messy cursive around the circle. But no, of course he would never do that, not even to Schlatt. No J-names were anywhere in sight. Instead, Quackity wrote out _his full name._

_Schlatt, the first elected president of Manburg._

Fuck, having someone know him so well was as pleasing as it was concerning. When had he told Quackity that he saw that as his full name? Was it when he was drunk, or had he made some “joke” about it that he remembered, like he always did, and used later? How-

Well, it didn’t matter what he was thinking about, because the rings (he suddenly realized the small rings were the ones that appeared on his spectral form, the ones he liked the most) had been placed back on the altar, and he found himself directly next to the tablecloth without intending to move. The pull was strong- Too strong. He couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to. He had to stay right there. And, _“coincidentally,”_ the communicator was right where he was stuck.

Well.

“Okay,” Quackity sighed, breaking the silence that had drawn on for far too long, rubbing at the bridge of his nose in a way he had picked up _after_ leaving Manberg (it reminded him too much of Wilbur, he _hated_ it). “The book says you’re supposed to be here, Schlatt, so I’m gonna hope it worked and I just can’t... See you. It said it would work as a teleporter, so you _should_ be here. So I’m going to give you the rundown.”

Schlatt was _very_ curious about the rundown. Specifically, how much truth would be put into it. After all, his husband had once been a far more honest man, for all the drugs and shady deals he dipped into, wearing his feelings, goals, and opinions on his sleeve. But two years on the arm of the most poisonous man in Manburg twisted him into someone far more cunning, or at least attempting to be more cunning. During his time as a ghost, Schlatt had seen his ~~former~~ husband slip lies off his tongue more and more easily as the days passed by. So it was a gamble how much honesty he, the would-be “puppet” would be given.

Not that he _believed_ that was why he was being resurrected, but...

“Shit’s hit the fan since you died,” Quackity began. “Manburg got blown up, and then Technoblade- Te- He-” The summary started off well with the name of _that fucker_ not even able to escape his ~~ex-~~ husband’s lips, leaving him stuttering with nothing to hold onto. “Well- We- Withers were spawned and made everything worse, and an entire battle broke out. Then we were supposed to be fine, but Tommy made a mistake, and Niki left town and Tubbo helped Dream _exile Tommy-”_

Nothing could make Schlatt forget Tommy’s exile. He knew Dream cared about the kid, had always cared about the kid, and the demand for him to be banished seemed so out of character- Until he saw the tense shock in the man’s form when Tubbo (his sweet son that didn’t even know he was his son, bless his heart) actually _agreed._ Wasn’t hard to piece some things together: As much as he wanted to say Tubbo had done as good of a job as president as he had thought he would, it would be impossible to claim that he hadn’t failed some sort of test, as difficult as said test was.

The thoughts died down as Schlatt tuned back into Quackity’s words, eyes falling on his form once more. Through great restraint, he kept his eyes _above_ the waist.

“So everything sucks, Fundy isn’t doing well, Phil knows about the butcher army which is a problem, Niki is _still gone-_ Do you even remember Niki? She was the one that you imprisoned for telling you no a while ago. She said she had a family emergency, but honestly I don’t think she _has_ any family, so she’s probably still processing Wilbur’s death.”

Right. Because Quackity would have so much knowledge on processing and moving on from death. Of course.

“Anyway, it- It’s just- Tubbo can’t _run_ Manburg, not really,” Quackity continued. “I mean, he’s trying his best, but he’s, what? Seventeen? And just too... Soft, to run a country. I should have been president, anyway. I was _vice._ It’s so stupid that you always saw that kid as a better fit than me. Why, because he actually _is_ your kid?”

That was... Complicated to answer, even though he had no intention of ever explaining his thoughts for that decision at all.

“So we need you back, before Tubbo exiles someone else or Fundy breaks down or hell- Before _I_ break down-” Quackity’s hair fell in his face after he ran his hands through it, not gelled back like usual, but loose and previously just pushed away from his face by hand. The more natural look suited him. “Listen. I just- Schlatt, I know you might not like me the most right now, but... I _did_ love you. I just want what’s best for us. I can make sure we have a _good life_ together. You could be president again! Together, with me. We could make sure Tubbo gets more training and actually takes over when he’s ready. I could- Schlatt, I’ve been planning and training and thinking and learning, I’m so much more than a piece of sexy ass this time-”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Quackity was truly, completely serious about trying to bring him back. He knew he was, but somehow the realization still brought him chills. Dying had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. Hell, it made life better for _Quackity_ too, even though he didn’t see it yet. He would let this happen.

“Anyway. I need your consent to bring you back, Schlatt. Please just send a message in your communicator so we can confirm your consent and I’ll be out of your way for a while again. Just- Come on, Schlatt, don’t ignore me.”

Schlatt couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Quackity _choose this,_ for either of their sakes. So that meant he had to-

_ <Schlatt whispered from beyond the grave.> _

_ Schlatt: hey flatty patty _

(No, he wasn’t too happy about it either. After all, he had _promised_ himself that he’d never hurt Quackity again. But there he was.)

* * *

_ <Badboyhalo whispered to Nihachu.> _

_Badboyhalo: Hi Niki! :D_

_Badboyhalo: Do you have a moment? I might need some advice, or at least help for when you get back._

As kind as she tried to be, _as kind as she tried to be,_ Niki could not prevent the brief flash of rage that rose at the arrival of Bad’s message. Ranboo, despite all her care, was still _extremely out of it._ Nothing was helping, and she was close to just carrying her brother all the way to L’Manburg in hopes of some proper medical help. She had problems of her own, she could not carry the burden of every man around her. 

She did not have time for this.

 _Niki:_ _hi bad!_

_Niki: sorry im really busy right now, i cant talk with you_

_Niki: but as soon as i can ill message you back, okay?_

_Niki: stay safe!_

* * *

Great. Just great! Bad was so very happy with that turn of events, even though he _knew_ Niki would be busy. He wasn’t entitled to her time. He wasn’t. So it was fine to wait until she could get back to him.

His only worry was that there would be no relationship to _save,_ if she made him wait much longer.

...Which was... totally fine.  


* * *

George had  _ intended _ to be reach a stopping point in building within a few hours, and leave in time to visit Dream the next day. (Tommy as well, as loathsome as his company would be for him.) But at some point he had found himself woefully distracted, finally  _ alone _ and, quite honestly, just basking in the silence. He loved being around his “friends,” he did. They were often good at paying attention to him and including him in things, and it was nice to be around people who found him...  _ valuable. _ But they didn’t  _ get it _ and there were so many things that had to be left unsaid. So many things he had to hide, lest they get... Inconveniently angry.

So, for that reason, the solitude was welcome.

Instead of preparing to return “home,” (was it really home if Dream was gone and he had to live in the space as Sapnap’s _precious_ _ boyfriend _ and the angry drug dealer they’d gotten attached to? Not really) George found himself working more on his base. It was cozy, in a way that his mushroom house wasn’t, in a way he couldn’t fully articulate. It was  _ safe, _ somewhere no one would be able to find it. There was a part of him that never wanted to leave. (Especially when he knew going back would just be Karl forcing Sapnap to ignore George again and again, in favor of hugs, kisses, quality time, date nights- _uuugh_ it was so stupid)

So it was better.

In these rare cases, he had realized, solitude was better than people, as long as one knew that they could see those specific people, bring them back into the web, whenever one wished. And he could.

(It wouldn't even be difficult.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a long time making a work skin and I hope y'all like it/it looks okay! I'm excited about it ^-^;;
> 
> All previous chapters have now been edited to have the appropriate colors, if there was colored text in that chapter, so if you wanna check it out-


	33. Words Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your patience as I was working to get the next chapter out. My laptop wouldn't connect to the internet for a few days, and I finally got it fixed! So here's an update for y'all to enjoy ^-^

_ <Schlatt whispered from beyond the grave.> _

_ Schlatt: hey flatty patty _

Of  _ course _ that was what he started with. Even for once in his after-life, Schlatt couldn’t just be  _ nice. _ Months had passed since his death, during which he should have been able to steel himself against such insults, but still Quackity was left reeling. Because of course he was. The most common insult ever thrown at him should not  _ hurt _ this much. “Flatty patty” of all fucking things should not have brought tears to his eyes like the threat of rain, brought anger to his chest like the sky preparing a clap of thunder. After all that time, he should have been used to the poisoned insult, let it roll off of him like water off a duck’s back. 

On top of that, he had  _ willingly contacted Schlatt. _ Frankly, he should have been expecting the taunt. After all, the man that appeared in his late-night daydreams was nothing more than fantasy, not at all a reality he could ever hope to connect to. The ghost version of his husband had no reason to be like Ghostbur, whose venom had dissolved into a type of desperate friendliness. Proof of stupidity lay in his shock over the response: Quackity  _ should have known. _

However, that  _ still _ did not give the fucker the  _ right. _

“I’m not a flatty patty,” Quackity protested, anger sparking behind the layers of pain. But it was no use; even to his own ears, he sounded whiny and defensive, as if denying the truth.

A lack of response from Schlatt was just as effective as an entire paragraph from someone else, and the shame burned his cheeks. 

“No! I’m  _ not!” _

He wasn’t, and he knew he wasn’t. Quackity was a thicc bitch, he had ass for days, and, hell, he was fucking  _ hot.  _ He was attractive, everyone knew it, even people who couldn’t fucking  _ see _ him. He didn’t have a flat ass, he wasn’t some plain jane people would overlook and never remember. He wasn’t someone only the most desperate would lay their hands on. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He  _ wasn- _

_ Schlatt: f l a t t y  _

_ Schlatt: p A T T Y _

“No!” he found himself screeching, the levels of how  _ pathetic _ he was only rising. “No! I’m not! I  _ promise _ I’m not!”

Tears stung his eyes, easily revealing him to be the bitch that Schlatt always claimed he was: Emotional, a crybaby, too sensitive, too  _ weak _ to do anything right. It didn’t matter that he was running El Rapids by himself, at the same time as helping run ~~Manbu-~~ _ L’manburg. _ None of that mattered, in the end, did it? Because he was just some fucking, stupid bitch, in Schlatt’s eyes, and the only thing that mattered about him was his ass. 

But even  _ that _ didn’t match his  _ stupid fucking standards. _

Each breath came out of him too fast, his own respiratory system running a marathon as he struggled to figure out what to do. Did he seriously not have a plan for if  _ Schlatt, _ of all people, decided to be an asshole? He  _ should have had a plan for this. _ What happened to the intelligent mama’s boy that left his home server so long ago? He should have been better prepared for this. He should have-

He should have been smart enough not to try this at all. What the fuck was he  _ doing? _

* * *

Just a couple comments reduced Quackity from the strong, angry, stubborn man Ghlatt knew he could be, to a frail person with tears streaming down his cheeks and arms wrapped around his himself in some shoddy semblance of comfort. It was too fucking easy to take him down. Having had to watch him since his funeral, Ghlatt  _ knew _ his ex-husband wasn’t doing well, had deteriorated from when they first met, with a large part of the blame falling squarely on  _ his _ shoulders. So he knew there was a chance he would be more sensitive and take less to push him over the edge than the feisty motherfucker he once knew. But still... He could not help but feel as if he had taken all of this  _ way too far. _

All he wanted was Quackity to be too angry to bring him back. Not...  _ This. _

Not crying by an altar in his basement, far away from anyone he could claim to love, barely able to breathe under the weight of the sudden attack of emotions he was drowning in. Not gasping as if trying to get some air, rather than breathe nothing but grief and guilt and self-loathing. 

He wanted to keep Quackity safe from himself. Not  **_this._ **

* * *

When Schlatt didn’t keep messaging to taunt him as he started crying under the simple weight of a couple insults, Quackity knew something was weird. The old Schlatt would  _ never _ pass up an opportunity to kick him while he was down.  _ Especially _ if he was being over-emotional about something. Simply  _ not _ making it worse was just... Not Schlatt’s  _ style. _

So something  _ had _ to be weird.

Did he somehow fuck up the spell? Was Schlatt just... Not there, anymore, somehow? That shouldn’t be possible, but...

* * *

When Quackity stopped crying and hyperventilating, but his eyes were narrowed and his expression was thoughtful, as if trying to piece together a puzzle... Schlatt knew his plan had gone  _ extremely  _ sideways. And it was almost entirely his fault.

After all, he had never given his partner a chance to  _ think _ or collect himself during an argument, before.

His own newfound compassion was a mark of suspicious activity.

**_Shit._ **

* * *

To say Skeppy had problems would be, well, an unfortunate understatement of the situation.

The  _ biggest _ problem at the moment was, unfortunately, that Skeppy had no fucking clue where he  _ was. _ At some point, he had apparently just started walking, and forgotten all the things he used to know. For example, leaving a trail of torches, or checking coordinates, or walking somewhere familiar, or just... Well,  _ not walking off in a strange direction while upset. _ Tall trunks of dark oak surrounded him, leaving him craning his neck and squinting for any glimpse of the sky.

He was lost, he was hurt, and he was alone.

So, of course, this was the perfect time for his brain to force him to think about the things he had spent so much effort trying to  _ not think about. _ The thoughts could not be contained, bubbling up every time he took a breath, slowed down to look at something, or did anything other than run away from his problems. 

Problems such as, well...

The Egg having a  _ point. _

In fact, it was a point that Skeppy had brought up many times before, even though he was now  _ livid _ to hear those points brought up, given that it was a shitty mind-control egg saying them. He and Bad were, simply...  _ Not good for each other. _ They had improved over the years, of course, and Bad only threatened to break his legs sometimes. Only actually  _ did _ once a year at most. They could, sometimes, talk out their issues, and sometimes was  _ far _ better than never! They did not drag Dream into their problems anymore, and did their best to not force him to pick sides. 

They had  _ improved. _

But improvement was not  _ enough. _ Not when the both of them were still miserable. Not when there was a kid in the mix again that they had to care for. Not when Skeppy felt like crying or breaking things every day. Not when Skeppy knew that simply changing himself and how he expressed his personality would not be enough to fix things this time. That it would have to be  _ Bad _ who made the effort to change.

Which was more likely than he used to think, but still difficult to execute, given that Bad would probably rather actually  _ die _ than listen to all the concerns and notes Skeppy had for him. If he was going to change, Bad would change the things he could see the most easily as an issue, and in a way he saw fit.

Like with the second wedding: His guilt being soothed mattered far more than Skeppy actually getting something he  _ truly wanted _ out of the relationship. 

The Egg was no doubt evil, no doubt terrible, was wrong in a lot of ways... But in this one category, it was just repeating things Skeppy already knew.

Bad’s gang was right to object when they got together: They were  _ never _ meant for forever.

But he was selfish. Truly, truly selfish, because...

Because even though he knew they were hurting, knew this would only end badly, knew that it would be better for both of them in the end if he just forced himself to leave for the final time...

Skeppy  _ desperately wanted _ to make things work.

Even if he was the only one of them willing to change. He would change as much as he needed to, to tape the cracks in their relationship.

No matter what, he would be willing to change, as long as there was a scrap of hope for fixing them.

* * *

_ What I Know About ME: Written by TommyInnit (Page 8) _

_ -i had a “flashback” recently right? And it spooked me _

_ -but the most scary part of it was that the ravine man used to be just in my dreams _

_ -but now he’s in my head _

_ -he’s in my head he’s in my head he’s in my head _

_ -every time i cl ose my f ucking eyes he’s *in my HEAD* _

_ -i wnat to forget _

_ -i WANT to forget _

_ -maybe i should fall again _

_ -just so i don’t have to remember anymore _

_ -his face _

_ -that grin _

_ -he ENJOYED what he did to me _

_ -which just makes it worse, right? He wasn;t just doing it _

_ -he WANTED to _

_ -he LIKED it _

_ -he smelled of something strong and i don’t know how to describe it but now the scent is just. in my fucking head and i hate it _

_ -i want to burn it out of my mind _

_ -i hate it _

_ -i think... the more i think about Him, the more likely i am to remember the shit he’s done to me _

_ -i’m trying not to think about him _

_ -i had another nightmare in addition to the ravine man _

_ -i was under pistons and couldn’t escape _

_ -dream looked REALLY worried when he woke me up _

_ -took him a moment to convince me i COULD breathe and i WASN’T underwater _

_ -i was _

_ -i was really scared _

_ -neither bad or skeppy have come back yet, and i know that worries dream a lot _

_ -speaking of dream this guy, eret, who works for dream and is like, a king and shit, messaged dream and was all “hey, do you wanna talk?” and for some reason when telling me this dream called eret handsome and i dunno how to feel about that _

_ -cuz like, OBVIOUSLY he’s still into sapnap, soooooo.... but also if he wants to meet some cute king for some reason then i don’t want to stop him _

_ -he was like, willingly showing emotions about this eret guy, called him interested and a good leader _

_ -i don’t remember dream just... VOLUNTEERING compliments for someone before _

_ -other than sapnap but i’m preeeeettyyyy sure he was trying to be age-appropriate when it came to him so he didn’t say much _

_ -which, uh... gross. Did NOT need to know _

_ -he doesn’t want to leave me in the house alone, especially because no one knows when skeppy or bad are coming back and he doesn’t want me to have no one to take care of me _

_ -but i don’t want to be a fucking burden all the time _

_ -i don’t want to be the reason dream can’t have any fucking nice things, or just fucking hang out with anyone _

_ -i feel like i’m just... ruining his fucking life _

_ -so i told him eret should visit here _

_ -that i’d be willing to meet this eret guy _

_ -i don’t really want to be around strangers but _

_ \- i just *really* don’t wanna be a fucking burden anymore _

_ -he won’t say i am but that doesn’t mean i’m NOT _

_ -dream is just too nice to me _

_ -i don’t deserve him _

_ \- i don’t deserve him at all _

* * *

Did Eret think that walking into Dream’s “territory” and meeting with the kid he charged himself with protecting was a good idea? Well, he helped steal that kid’s first life and was never forgiven, so... No, no not really, but well... He had messaged Dream if he wanted to visit, and got the good ol’ uno reverse. 

Which meant, to check on Dream, he had to check on Tommy as well, and he didn’t really have any other choice.

The once-untouchable god had a weakness bigger than the sun, and he would  _ not _ leave him unprotected and alone.


End file.
